


Dreamers at Best

by flightlessnerds



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Denial, Depression, Early Days, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Regional At Best era, Religious Guilt, Sexual Inexperience, Slow Burn, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 94,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7316113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightlessnerds/pseuds/flightlessnerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh decided that he loved everything about this band. Well, no, that wasn’t quite true. He loved everything about it, except that he wasn’t part of it. </p><p>In which Josh goes to see twenty one pilots for the first time, and finds that he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the lead singer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Whisper 'This is It'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please direct questions about translations or related ideas to my [tumblr](http://jenshlers.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> Portuguese Translation: [[x](https://www.wattpad.com/story/98486128-dreamers-at-best-traduzida-portugu%C3%AAs-br)]  
> Korean Translation: [[x](https://b-tc-top.postype.com/post/559353)]  
> Russian Translation: [[x](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5840001)]

It was honestly embarrassing how excited Josh was for this concert. He went to shows practically every weekend, so he really shouldn’t be that eager to check out another group of local guys at the Newport, right? But ever since his friend Chris had sent him that four-track demo of his new band - twenty one pilots - Josh had been waiting for this night. And alright, it was possible that he had gotten there a couple hours early to make sure that he could be right at the front. He kept telling himself that it was just because Chris was his friend, and he wanted a good view of the drums, but the truth was that Josh had never wanted to be in the front more than he did right now. 

Fortunately, his efforts had paid off, and he had managed to get a spot at the front and center in the small pit. The crowd wasn’t huge, and probably a large portion of it was just Ohio State kids trying to find something not-boring to do on campus. But they were enthusiastic enough, and Josh felt right at home.

The band had started right away, with no preamble, jumping into a song that changed tempo and style so fast every few measures that Josh could barely keep up - and he loved every minute of it. He loved everything about the song; the crazy keyboard music, the drumming (although Josh had to admit that he was already thinking about what he would do differently) - and most of all, the lead singer, who was just completely going for it, with no reservations. Josh had never seen someone go so wild, and still manage to rap incredibly fast and hit every note of the chorus… he was awestruck. He wasn’t sure what he had pictured when he had been listening to the voice on the demo, but it wasn’t this. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty or twenty-one. 

The song began to fade out: 

_You... have no plans for me… I will set my soul on fire.... what have I become… I’m sorry._

Josh clapped along enthusiastically with the rest of the crowd, many of whom seemed as impressed as he did. The lead singer, still behind his keyboard and out of breath from the insanity that was the first song, grabbed the mic to address the audience for the first time that night: 

“Thanks for coming; we’re twenty one pilots, and we’re gonna play some music for you… that was our new song, that we just wrote the other day… it’s gonna be great.” 

Is he serious? Josh thought. This kid is intense. As he was speaking, an orchestral backing track began to play. Josh absolutely recognized this one from the demo Chris had given him - it was the first twenty one pilots song he had ever heard.

“Let’s make this night memorable, alright?” Lead Singer said. “I need your help.” 

And then he was right back at it. He strolled from his larger keyboard to a smaller one just left of center stage, haphazardly flicking a sheet of paper off the keys. It was a crazy feeling to see this song come to life right before him, with Lead Singer dancing along like mad. Josh could barely contain his laughter and excitement as he watched him jumping around behind his little keyboard, which he was now picking up and placing on top of the other one to the right. He barely had time to register the sound of operatic voices in the back of the track, distorted somewhat by being sped up, before he was distracted by Lead Singer coming right at him with the microphone, lunging up to the front of the stage and beginning the song… and jesus, this kid could rap. 

_You split! And take in every time you see a fake and counterfeit, in the mirror you appear to see fear and whisper ‘this is it!’ In the mirror you appear to see nothing else but yourself as a face, a hollowed out space, leave me with a razor just in case…_

Somewhere in the back of Josh’s mind, he felt a little bit guilty for dedicating 0% of his attention to Chris, but he could not peel his eyes away from this guy, as he finished the first verse and careened back to his keyboard for the chorus, and then - holy shit, he was back, and practically standing right on top of Josh’s head as he shouted the second verse, stamping his foot to the beat. Josh had two options: look directly upward and encounter an area of Lead Singer with which he was not sure he was ready to be intimately familiar, or stare straight ahead at his shoes. He opted for the latter. As he watched Lead Singer stamping his unlaced sneaker into the floor to the beat, he realized that he hadn’t felt this good in months. This music was alive. 

Josh decided that he loved everything about this band. 

Well, no, that wasn’t quite true. 

He loved everything about it, except that he wasn’t part of it. 

With the visual distraction removed, Josh was really able to start listening to the lyrics, which, somehow, were even more intense than he had remembered. It was about God and death and failure and hope and life. It was beautiful. It was this kid’s heart on a plate. It was the best song he’d ever heard. 

He was overcome with the urge to wrap his arms around Lead Singer’s legs, drag him into the pit, and hug him until his ribs cracked, but he resisted. Instead, he remained mesmerized as Lead Singer returned to the keyboard for a final few shouts of the chorus: 

_It’s time to say goodbye… to the earth, and now my worthless life… cause everything I’ve ever made is dead now, inside the grave..._

Josh had found his new favorite band, and he was never going back. 

 

\--------

 

The show had ended, and the crowd, along with Josh, were filing out into the slightly chilly night air. He hurriedly sent a text to Chris: 

**Josh:** Hey man, you backstage? Wanna come find you. AMAZING show btw. 

He responded right away: 

**Chris:** Come 2 stage door, around left side! 

Josh extracted himself from the throng and headed around the building. The stage door was propped open as a few guys loaded out some equipment, and he was able to find Chris quickly once inside. 

“Josh! 

“Hey, man!” he replied to the figure coming towards him, who clasped his hand and pulled him into a one-shoulder hug. “Sick job up there! I’m serious, you guys sounded amazing!” 

“Thanks, dude!” said Chris, smiling. “Yeah, I could see you in the pit. You looked like you were having a pretty good time. He’s really something else, isn’t he?” 

Josh swallowed. “Huh?” 

Chris laughed. “Come on, man. You basically had your eyes glued on Tyler the whole time. Maybe I should be offended,” he joked. 

Tyler. Lead Singer had a name now. Tyler. Tylertylertyler. 

“Yeah, for sure, he was pretty intense,” said Josh, trying not to blush. Why was he blushing in the first place? There was no way he was going to let himself start crushing on Lead Singer. On _Tyler._

He realized that Chris was trying to get his attention. 

“Josh?” he said, waving a hand in front of his face. “I asked if you wanted to grab food or something. I just have to load the drums back in the van and then we could meet at Burger King, or wherever.” 

“Oh,” said Josh. “You mean, like, just the two of us? Or would… the other guys be coming, or something?” 

“Nah man, just us,” said Chris. 

“Oh,” replied Josh, trying to conceal his disappointment, and finding his vocabulary to be increasingly limited as he wrestled with his brain, trying not to ask Chris what he really wanted to ask. 

Fuck it. 

“Canyoumaybeintroducemetotyler?” he stuttered out, stuffing his hands in his pockets from embarrassment. This was pathetic. 

Chris looked confused. “I’m gonna need you to say that one more time, man.” 

Josh scuffed at the ground with his foot and tried to act normal, like a totally 100% straight dude who just wanted to meet a friend of a friend. 

“Just… I don’t know, I was thinking it might be cool if you could introduce me to Tyler. You know, so I can tell him his music is cool, but it won’t be awkward, because I know you…” he trailed off. 

His friend just laughed. “Yeah, sure, man. Let’s go find him. You can tell him how much of a fangirl you are. But I’m going to warn you right now that he’s pretty straight, so don’t go getting any ideas.” 

Josh scoffed noncommittally. He wasn’t getting any ideas. 

He followed Chris through the cramped backstage area until they reached a small dressing room that contained two couches, a few speakers, and a very, very shirtless Tyler 

He was getting ideas. 

“Hey Tyler, s’my friend Josh,” said Chris casually, and Josh tried to look anywhere but at the geometric tattoo on Tyler’s left pec as he turned to face them. He was surprised to see Tyler’s face break into a huge grin when he laid his eyes on Josh. 

“Dude! You’re Josh? As in drummer Josh, that Chris was talking about? From House of Heroes? I didn’t know that was you! I totally saw you in the pit tonight!” 

Josh blushed, fumbling with his words. It suddenly felt like he couldn’t remember the English language. 

“Yep that’s me,” he confirmed, holding out his hand for Tyler to shake. “Drummer Josh.” 

Tyler laughed at the repetition of the nickname, and held out his hand. “That’s so cool. I’m Tyler Joseph.” 

“Hey,” Josh said pathetically, as he shook Tyler’s hand. He was surprised at the firmness of Tyler’s handshake, proportional to his relative scrawniness. He shook Josh’s hand like he really was honored to meet him. 

“Sorry,” said Tyler, “Let me just…” and he moved to pull the t-shirt he was holding over his head. “Had to change,” he finished, as his head emerged through the hole. “So sweaty. So, did you enjoy the show?” 

Josh tried to keep up with the onslaught of words coming at him while at the same time trying not to watch the way that Tyler’s chest muscles moved when he raised his arms above his head. He swallowed. 

“Yeah, man!” said Josh, trying to sound genuine but not overly enthusiastic. “It was honestly one of the greatest shows I’ve seen in awhile. Chris burned me a couple of your songs awhile back so I was really looking forward to seeing you in person. You guys, I mean. The band.” He mentally kicked himself. 

“No way!” said Tyler. “That’s really cool. Most people have no idea who we are when they show up, or they’ve heard our name but not our music.” 

Josh smiled nervously. “Yeah, I mean it was really just a few songs, but I was for sure into them.” Neither of them spoke for a minute while Tyler gathered up the rest of his belongings from the dressing room, shoving them one by one into a red backpack. Josh looked to Chris to break the silence, but he had stepped out for some reason. It was just the two of them. Josh knew that rationally, that shouldn’t make him nervous, but it did. 

“Hey, what did you think of the new song?” Tyler said suddenly, and Josh noticed that something about the way he was looking at him had changed, his leading-man confidence shifting ever so slightly. “The one we played first?” 

“It was fantastic,” Josh said honestly. _It was like nothing I’d ever seen,_ he said internally. “Did you decide what to name it?” 

“Nick is still counting the votes, but it looks like it’s going to be ‘Ode to Sleep.’ I think I like that one,” he said, looking questioningly at Josh as if seeking his approval. 

“‘Ode to Sleep’ sounds sick,” said Josh, and Tyler grinned. 

“Thanks!” he replied, his confidence returning. 

Josh hesitated, and then decided to go for it. 

“But my favorite for sure was the second song. That was on the demo Chris burned me, and, like, it might be the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Tyler’s grin doubled. “Thanks, man! Wow… I’m…just so glad that you have so many nice things to say. Yeah, ‘Time to Say Goodbye’ is one of my favorites to perform, for sure.” 

He had finally gathered up all of his things, and Josh realized that this was probably his cue to exit. But somehow he felt like he hadn’t finished talking to Tyler, although he wasn’t sure how to put that into words without it being awkward. As if reading his mind, Tyler spoke: 

“Wanna walk out with me? Chris is probably out front or something.” Josh nodded, and followed Tyler back down the cramped hallway, through the stage door, and back into the chilly air. 

“There you guys are!” said Chris, who was indeed already outside. “Thought I was going to have to come in there and find you. Oh and Tyler, you’re brother is waiting in the car. Said to get a move on.” 

“Got it,” replied Tyler, turning to Josh and holding out his hand again. “Hey, again, nice to meet you. Thanks so much for coming to the show. It honestly means a lot.” 

Josh could tell that Tyler really meant what he was saying. 

“No Problem,” Josh said. And then, before he could stop himself … “Hey, maybe I could… give you my number or something? Just in case this loser -" he gestured to Chris “- ever gets himself into trouble and you’re in a pinch for a drummer.” Josh was pretty impressed with how fluently he had just managed to articulate that sentence. 

Tyler’s face lit up. 

“Yeah man, that would be rad! You never know, Salih could actually land himself in prison for good one of these days.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to Josh so that he could enter his number. Josh hesitated, before typing “Drummer Josh” into the space for his name, and then adding his number and handing the phone back. 

"So yeah, we should maybe hang out some time," Josh said, fully aware of how dumb it sounded, and how many people probably said that to Tyler on a daily basis. 

“For sure,” Tyler replied, sounding genuine as he took the phone back. “Alright, well I think I’d better skedaddle. But I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Josh smiled. “Yeah. For sure.” 

And then Tyler was vanishing around the corner. 

As Josh walked back past the front of the venue on the way to his car, he noticed a guy with sandy brown hair clearing off a table of merch, which included a few copies of a demo CD. Josh figured it might be the same one that Chris had burned for him, but just in case it wasn’t… 

“Hey, sorry, am I too late? How much for the demos?” he asked the sandy-haired guy. 

“Oh,” the guy replied. “Don’t worry about it, just grab one. I’m ready to clear out.” Josh thanked him, and made a bee-line for his car, slipping the CD into the slot before he had even turned the key in the ignition. _Please have Time to Say Goodbye… Please have Time to Say Goodbye..._

The sound of an orchestral backing tape filled his speakers, and Josh silently punched the air with joy. He was never turning this music off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here is the link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WL2DB9_UaGM) to the concert that inspired this chapter. If you can make it through the second verse and still be breathing, you're doing better than me - or Josh. 
> 
> Also yes, I 100% believe that a 21 year old Tyler would say "skedaddle."
> 
> *Edit* check out [this ADORABLE drawing](http://jenshlers.tumblr.com/post/167781811971/rereading-dreamers-at-best-for-the-millionth-time) that [ThePancakePenguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePancakePenguin) did of the "skedaddle" moment :)))
> 
> Tumblr [[x](http://flightlessnerds-ao3.tumblr.com)]


	2. Take a Day to Break Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, it took me a little longer than expected to update this, but I already have most of the next chapter written :)

The morning after the show at the Newport, Josh was awoken by the sound of his mother dumping a basket of clean laundry outside his bedroom door. As he reached to unplug his phone and check the time, the events of the night before flooded back to him, and he couldn’t help himself from grinning slightly. He had gotten home pretty late, after driving around for about thirty minutes longer than necessary, just so that he could listen to the five-song demo one more time. 

The early afternoon sun was streaming pleasantly onto Josh's bed, and it was so warm and hazy in his room that he almost considered rolling over and going back to sleep, before his mother was at the door again. 

“Josh, honey,” she said impatiently. “You know I don’t mind you living here, but it’s almost one o’clock in the afternoon. Up and at ‘em. Don’t you have work or something?” 

Josh groaned and pressed his face into his pillow. He didn’t have work today, but he also didn’t have anything better to do. 

“No. Tomorrow,” he grunted. 

His Mom sighed. “Alright, but you still need to get up. Come make yourself lunch or something. Or breakfast, I guess. And don’t forget that you promised to help your father with that yard work later,” she added. “You’ll need to take the pickup and make a few trips to the dump.”

Josh waited until he could he could hear his mother’s footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs before dragging himself out of bed. He dressed for comfort, knowing that he probably wouldn’t be encountering anyone outside of his household today, putting on some navy blue sweatpants and a Death Cab For Cutie t-shirt and making only a half-attempt to tame his mess of dark brown hair. 

The straggly appearance of his own reflection brought back sudden flashes of last night in Tyler’s dressing room, his shirt off, hair mussed up in every direction. Josh smiled to himself remembering his firm handshake, and the genuine gratitude in his eyes when Josh had praised his music. 

Launching himself down the stairs, he made his way to the basement where he kept his drum kit, and on the way, grabbed the demo CD that he’d tossed on the counter after getting home last night. He had at least a few hours to himself before his Dad would need his help.

He rummaged around in a pile of high school possessions stuffed into a corner of the basement, before retreating with what he was looking for. He honestly hadn’t used a walkman since like tenth grade, but he hadn’t had time to put any of the newer twenty one pilots music on his iPod yet. Josh queued up the first track, grabbed his sticks, and let the demo play as he drummed along, song after song, hitting harder and harder as he got lost in the music. The sound of Tyler’s voice brought him back to last night, and he let his mind wander. He imagined himself up onstage at the Newport, just him and Tyler, maybe in front of a sold out crowd, as Tyler sang and jumped around, rapping his heart out for their fans. Even just remembering how much energy Tyler had made Josh push himself harder and harder, willing himself to play better and better. 

He might not be in the band, but he was going to practice as if he were.  


 

\--------

 

Tyler took a cursory glance around the shared living room area of the house before typing the words into YouTube: 

_Josh Dun House of Heroes_

The rental house’s shitty wifi meant that the feed of videos was going to take about a year to load. He groaned and leaned his head back against the couch.

Tyler had woken up this morning and known immediately that it was going to be one of those days. The morning after a big show usually went in one of two directions: either he was still riding the high from the night before, feeling like he was on top of the world, or he felt like he had left all of his energy, all of his _purpose,_ back at the venue. Some days he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was just surviving from show to show, and that everything in between was paralyzing monotony. 

Today was definitely the latter. But Tyler had forced himself up and into the shower, forced down breakfast and his meds, and then settled into the couch for a long day of doing nothing. He had the house to himself, and it was eerily quiet, leaving space for his mind to wander back to last night, as he began his ritualistic nitpicking about everything that had gone wrong in the performance - which, in the light of day, had started to feel like _everything._ He had almost tripped over the microphone cord like three times during “Time to Say Goodbye,” and had practically forgotten the words to his own second verse. 

Actually. 

There was a pretty obvious reason why he had been distracted during the second verse. Even just thinking about it caused the beginnings of a blush to creep up his neck and on to his cheeks, as he drew his legs under him on the couch. In the middle of his rap, as he stood right at the lip of the stage, Tyler had looked straight down into the pit and seen a stranger’s face, staring up at him as if their music was the best thing he’d ever heard in his entire life. And yeah, there were always enthusiastic fans in the crowd at these shows - more and more recently, and especially at familiar places like the Newport - but something about Josh’s face had caused him to miss a beat. And then, later, when they had talked, Tyler had felt so sure that this guy standing in front of him had _understood._ Not only did he care about the music, but he _got it._ Tyler wouldn’t have been able to name the feeling, but at the time, something about the hungry look in Josh’s eyes told him that they experienced music in the same way. 

So now, he was shamelessly scouring the web for another look at those eyes. 

_This was the dumbest thing ever,_ Tyler scolded himself. He’d barely even known Josh for twelve hours, and he was already internet-stalking him. He scrolled through video after video of House of Heroes performing with another drummer - the one that Josh had replaced, he assumed. Finally, after what felt like an hour, he found a low-quality video of a live outdoor show that had Josh drumming in the background. It was hard to make out much - either visual or audio - but it gave Tyler a jolt of energy to see Josh hitting his drums with so much force. 

He was so engrossed watching the video for a second time that he didn't hear the front door open until his house and band mate spoke behind him. 

“Yo,” said Nick, strolling into the room.

Tyler jumped and slammed the laptop shut, realizing immediately that it was a dumb thing to do. Theoretically, there was nothing suspicious about watching a House of Heroes video.

_Theoretically._

“Whoa, dude,” laughed Nick. “Porn? In the daytime? You never struck me as the type!” He felt Nick slap the back of his head fondly as he walked past the couch. 

“NOT porn,” Tyler defended. “But why are you home, anyway? I thought you had a review session.” 

“Nah, skipping it,” Nick said, smiling. “Gonna hit up the music store though. Need new strings. Then maybe Burger King. Wanna come?” 

Tyler weighed the benefits of good food with the comfort of staying on the couch. Usually his stomach would win in this scenario - but it was Sunday, after all. 

“It's okay. I'm gonna stay here. I have… stuff to do” he lied. 

“Hooookay,” said Nick in a sing-song voice, swiping his keys off the counter and heading back out of the room. “But leave the house at least once, okay?” 

Tyler said nothing. 

“Alright, sorry,” Nick laughed, holding up his hands in mock defense. “But jam-sesh later, yeah?” He gestured to the door leading to the basement ‘studio.’ 

“For sure,” Tyler agreed, and then Nick was back out the door, and he was alone again. Just like he liked it. Or hated it. Or both. But there was nothing to do. His housemates were gone, his high school friends were mostly still off at college, and his college friends, - except Nick, obviously - had fallen away when he dropped out last semester. He supposed that he could see what his brothers were doing, but he wasn’t particularly in the mood to interact with his family. 

Tyler _knew_ that he would feel better if he left the house. If nothing else, it would force him to act more extroverted, until he really started to feel outgoing. Fake it until you become it, or whatever. And yet…

_Sunday._

He dragged himself as far as the counter, where he had left his journal when he came down to eat, and opened to a fresh page. 

_Sundays are my suicide days._

Tyler closed the book and sighed, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter while he flipped through his phone. He wrote a quick post on the band’s Facebook page to thank their fans for coming out for a great show last night, and a few people liked it immediately and commented with their praise, which boosted his spirits marginally. He replied to some of their comments with jokes and thank-yous, before deciding that maybe he should text his brothers after all, and try to salvage what was left of the day. 

He opened a new text and began to type in “Jay,” but below his brother’s contact, he saw another one pop up:

_Josh the Drummer._

Tyler’s heart skipped a beat. He shoved down the dull burn in his chest, willing it to disappear. Of course, Josh _had_ suggested that they hang out some time, but without the excuse of needing a fill-in drummer, Tyler didn’t have any real reason to text him. And yet, Josh had seemed so enthusiastic, not just about the music, but about _Tyler_ in general. About _spending time_ with him. 

He checked the time on his lock screen. 3:13 pm. Was that a normal time to text someone to hang out? And what would hanging out even entail? Ideally, they could play music together, but… somehow, that felt off-limits. Tyler already had another drummer, and Josh already had another band. But that didn't mean they couldn't hang out, right? 

He selected Josh’s contact, and before he could talk himself out of it, typed out a text.

 **Tyler:** Hey, thanks again for coming last night. Any chance you want to come around and hang out today? I have a serious lack of anything to do. 

He bit his lip, hoping that his text didn’t sound too forced or phony. He pressed send, and then immediately slid his phone across the counter and out of reach, and buried his head in his arms. Tyler mentally rolled his eyes. He was acting like he was texting his crush or something, and he most definitely did not have a crush on Josh Dun, primarily because Josh Dun was a _guy._

His phone buzzed from the other side of the counter, and he involuntarily lunged for it. 

**Josh the Drummer:** I assume this is Tyler? :)

Oh my _God._ Yes. Identifying himself probably would have been a natural first step. But Tyler was internally somewhat gratified that Josh had known who it was, and the smiley face at the end had made his stomach lurch for reasons that he wasn’t going to let himself think about. 

**Tyler:** Oops. Yes, haha. 

At least five minutes passed, Tyler still sitting in silence on the counter, and still no reply. Was he supposed to say something else? Had he driven Josh away already with his awkwardness? _Way to go, Tyler,_ he thought. _Look’s like you’re alone for the day after all._ After what seemed like at least ten minutes of waiting, he started to move back to the couch, resigned to several more hours of laziness, when his phone buzzed again. 

Wait, no. It was _ringing._

Tyler started to silently panic. Texting Josh, who was practically still a stranger, was one thing. But talking on the _phone_ with him? And why was Josh calling him in the first place? Had he done something wrong? He debated just letting the call go to voicemail, but of course Josh knew now that Tyler was with his phone, so it would look like he was ignoring him. Which, he realized, would be true. 

He gulped, and pressed the answer button. 

“Hey,” he said, with much less enthusiasm than he had been going for. 

“Hey, Tyler!” chirped a familiar voice. “Sorry man, I was driving, so I couldn’t text, but I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you or something. So. Yeah. I called.” Tyler’s stomach did a backflip, and he grinned in spite of himself. 

“Oh, no, that’s cool,” he assured. “Wouldn’t want you to text and drive, obviously.”

Josh chuckled, and a slightly awkward silence settled in, broken only by the sound of the street, and the car that Josh was presumably driving. 

“So,” Tyler began, “I guess that means you’re probably not available. Which is fine, by the way.” He rested his head against a kitchen cabinet and closed his eyes. Why was he such an awkward human?

“Well I’m kind of helping my dad out with some stuff, which is why I have to keep driving back and forth to the dump in this dumb old car,” Josh laughed. “So I don’t know if you’d still be around after six or so, but that’s probably when he’s going to set me free.” 

Tyler did some quick mental calculations. It was more than likely that several of his housemates would be home by that time, and while that could potentially make this a bit more of a group activity than he had initially planned, it might also relieve some of the awkwardness of the whole “hanging out for the first time” thing. 

“No, that sounds great, actually. I’m… um. That’s better for me too,” he lied. “My housemates will probably be around then, if that’s cool. I live with like four other guys right now.” 

“Yeah, Chris mentioned something about that,” Josh said. 

Of course. Tyler mentally slapped himself for not thinking of Chris when he was internet-stalking Josh. He probably could have found his Facebook through their mutual friend. 

“So,” Tyler repeats. “You’re definitely welcome to come over? There’s not much to do around here except Mario Kart, but… yeah…” he broke off. 

“Um.” said Josh, over the line. “I could bring food?” 

Tyler grinned. “You’re on.” 

Josh agreed to meet him at the house at 7:00, and Tyler gave him some quick directions before they realized that they actually lived pretty close to each other. They said their goodbyes, and Tyler hung up, sliding down to the floor with his back against the wall. He let himself wallow in the phone call for a few moments, before reality came back, _hard._

He had just asked the cute, enthusiastic boy from the pit last night, to come over. To his place of residence. In a few hours. He needed to shower, and clean up, and put on something other than sweat pants and a tank top that showed his entire chest from the sides, because…

 _Because they were bros,_ he told himself. _Two dudes hanging out, like dudes do. Perfectly normal._

_Nothing more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my young beans


	3. Sending Signals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me, I referenced TB Saga one too many times.

Josh had realized almost immediately after hanging up the phone that he had no idea what kind of food he was supposed to bring. Rather than calling Tyler back, he had pulled over and texted Chris in a moment of panic: 

**Josh:** What do I feed Tyler Joseph do not read into this just answer

It had taken Chris a few minutes to respond, leaving Josh on the side of the road with his head resting against the steering wheel, thinking about what a terrible idea all of this was. 

**Chris:** Tacos 

**Chris:** I’m just not going to ask…?

Tacos. Josh could do that. He texted Chris back quickly. 

**Josh:** Yep. Thx. 

And now, at 6:45, Josh was circling Tyler’s block, with a bag of Taco Bell on the passenger seat, trying to kill time so that he wasn’t early. 

God, why was he so nervous? 

_Chill,_ Josh told himself for probably the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. _Chill, chill, chill._

He had decided about an hour ago, standing in front of his mirror in the first manifestation of this outfit, that he needed to approach this whole situation calmly. First of all, he was already worried that he had come off over-enthusiastic last night, and then he had called Tyler instead of just texting him back. So, in the interest of equilibrium, he needed to _not_ act like a giant dork when he saw him today. He needed to be _chill._

Upon returning home, he’d immediately stripped out of the outfit he’d been wearing all day, which had gotten very sweaty during his yard work. After showering, he had stood naked in front of his closet for at least ten minutes, trying to decide on an outfit that would seem casual but not underdressed. After about three false starts, he'd ended up in a Rancid t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and vans - essentially, what he wore every day, though the t-shirts rotated. 

Now, however, he was starting to curse his decision to wear long pants and all black. It was one of those few hot May evenings in Ohio, and the truck’s air conditioning was basically shot. He rolled down the driver’s side window as he rolled through the stop sign at the corner of Tyler’s block for about the third time. He had found Tyler’s shared rental house, a somewhat unkempt looking three-story Victorian, on the first try, but he didn’t want to be ridiculously early. On his fourth time around the block, at about 6:55, he decided to park in front of the house and wait out the last five minutes. 

He was just starting to get too hot again when his phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him. 

**Tyler Joseph:** not to be weird but are you sitting outside in your truck?

Josh stared at the words. 

“What the fuck, Joshua,” he said out loud to himself, before texting back. 

**Josh:** uh yeah sorry, i was waiting for 7pm, didn't want to intrude. 

His phone buzzed again almost immediately.

 **Tyler Joseph:** I would make a comment about suspicious loitering but since now I'm the one spying on you, I guess I can't really talk.

Josh craned his neck to try to find Tyler’s vantage point, but all the downstairs windows seemed empty. 

**Tyler Joseph:** bedroom window faces street, sorry. anyway come in, dude!

Groaning again at his increasing tendency to do weird shit in front of Tyler, Josh unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed the bag of tacos, and headed for the front door. He was just reaching down to ring the bell when the door flew open, and he was met with - 

Not Tyler. 

“Oh,” said the muscly guy standing in the door frame. “Hi? Can I help you?” 

Josh opened his mouth to speak, before a familiar voice spoke, echoing in the hallway behind the door. 

“It’s for me, Michael,” said Tyler, pushing through and smiling when he saw Josh standing on the stoop. 

“Hey,” Tyler greeted. 

Josh smiled back. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Tyler said again, and Josh giggled. 

“Oooookay,” said the guy named Michael, still sandwiched between them. “You seem to know each other, so I’m going to resume my exit.” 

“Oh,” said Tyler. “Sorry. Josh, this is Michael. One of many roommates. Michael, this is Josh.”

“One of many drummers,” supplied Josh, sticking out his hand.

“What, you need more than one drummer, Tyler?” chuckled Michael. 

Josh felt himself flushing. It had probably been a bad idea to introduce himself as a drummer, both now and last night. Maybe it really seemed like Josh was just here to try to worm his way into the band. 

“Hey, you never know when old man Salih might kick the bucket,” said a voice from further back in the entryway. A tall brown haired boy emerged, and Josh recognized him as Nick, the bassist for twenty one pilots. “You guys are letting the bugs in, and the air conditioning out. Pick a side, so I can close the door.”

Josh moved aside to let Michael out, and then stepped into the hallway. The interior of the rental house matched the exterior fairly well, although it was sparsely furnished, and clearly inhabited by guys in their early twenties. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful place; nothing like Josh’s family’s house. He followed Tyler and Nick through a doorway that led into an open kitchen and living area. 

“Hate to be a party pooper, but I’m heading to bed,” said Nick, yawning. 

Josh quirked an eyebrow. 

“He has to be up at like 3:00 a.m. for work,” Tyler explained. 

“Living the dream,” Nick groaned, heading up a flight of stairs that Josh hadn’t noticed before. 

“Jeez,” lamented Josh. “3:00 a.m.? That’s literally when I go to bed.” 

Tyler nodded. “Yeah, same. But until the band starts making multi-millions and touring the universe, we’re dealing with less than ideal conditions.” 

Josh was coming to realize that Tyler always spoke a little bit poetically. Not that he was trying, exactly - it just seemed like his speech was constantly laced with hyperbole and a few too many words. Josh loved it. 

Tyler looked down and raised his eyebrows at the bag Josh was holding. 

“Oh,” said Josh. “I didn’t really know what you meant by a bunch of roommates, so I brought like five tacos. But I also definitely wouldn’t be opposed to consuming more than one taco.” He shifted from foot to foot nervously. Tyler probably thought he was really weird for trying to feed all his roommates, and/or give Tyler multiple tacos. He was already fucking up the whole “chill” thing that he was supposed to be doing. 

“Aw man, you didn’t have to do that,” Tyler hummed. He opened the fridge, pulling out two cokes, and offering one to Josh, which he took. “But don’t worry, I am also not opposed to consuming multiple tacos. I rarely am.”

Josh laughed, still feeling unsure of himself in the cramped kitchen. He drummed his fingers absentmindedly against the counter as Tyler moved around, opening drawers.

“So we don't really have a kitchen table” Tyler said over his shoulder pulling open several drawers before locating napkins. “Not exactly the lap of luxury just yet. But we can eat on the couch if you want.” 

“Sure,” said Josh, making his way over to the L-shaped sofa in front of the TV, which seemed oddly out of place in the otherwise cheaply decorated downstairs. 

Tyler seemed to catch him eyeing it. “Yeah, that's my mom’s idea of a house warming gift,” he explained. “She went all out and got it for us when we moved in before the fall semester. It's like our one nice piece of furniture.” 

“So you're a college student, then?” Josh asked, opening the bag and pulling out a taco, not even checking what kind it was before unwrapping it.

“Oh. No.” Tyler blushed slightly as he made his way around the couch to sit down. “Not anymore. I recently dropped out.” He fished around in the bag before emerging with a taco as well. “I couldn't study music, because I have no training or anything. So it kind of felt like… why am I spending money to be here? I know what I want to do.”

Josh nodded. “That's not necessarily a bad thing, right?”

“I'd like to get that on record for my mom to hear,” Tyler laughed. “This is kind of the second time I've pulled the rug out from under her on the college thing.” 

Josh raised his eyebrows, as a sign for Tyler to go on. 

“I actually had a basketball scholarship to Otterbein,” Tyler continued, between bites. “Practically full ride. But that didn’t end up happening.” 

“Oh,” said Josh simply. “Good.” 

Tyler laughed and quirked his head, and Josh realized how that had sounded. 

“Not _good,_ I mean…” he stuttered, “it’s a great school. Probably. I just mean that, you know, if you had done that… um. You might not be doing… this. And that would...uh. Suck.” 

He watched Tyler’s smile crinkle into a bigger one. 

“Yeah man,” he agreed. “That would suck.” 

They ate in silence for awhile, and it took them no time at all to finish the all tacos. Josh watched as Tyler balled up his and Josh’s food wrappers, shoving them all into the original bag. 

“Alright,” said Tyler, swinging his legs up onto the couch to face him, surprising Josh with his sudden movement. “Here’s what we should do. We should play twenty questions.”

Josh swallowed. “Okay,” he said tentatively, and then grinned. “But shouldn’t it be twenty-one questions?” 

Tyler looked back at him blankly, and then his face broke into a smile and he dropped his head into his hands. “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just make that horrible joke,” he laughed, the sound muffled slightly. Josh started to wonder if he should just stop talking altogether to avoid making a fool of himself again, but then Tyler was raising his head, and Josh saw that his eyes were glinting with humor. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Actually,” said Tyler, “I was going to say that like - instead of twenty questions - we should just ask each other our top three anything. And trade off like that.” 

Josh nodded slowly as his thoughts raced. What was he supposed to ask? “You start,” he said, trying to divert the pressure. 

“Okay. Um…” Tyler screwed up his face in concentration and Josh thought it was probably the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “Top three bands?” he finally asked. 

Josh let out a long breath. “Dude,” he said. “Did you have to start with the hardest question ever?” 

“Sorry!” said Tyler, grinning. “But that’s also, like, the most important question ever. Maybe like after ‘are you a serial killer.’”

“Alright, well, a solid ‘no’ to the last one,” Josh laughed. “But I seriously don’t know how I’m supposed to narrow it down three. That’s like being asked to choose between your children.” 

As he talked, Josh kicked off his shoes, and curled into a corner of the couch. This felt right. All of this. 

Tyler rolled his eyes. “ _Fine,_ i’ll change it to five. But only for this question.” 

“Okay,” said Josh firmly, pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged, and holding out five fingers, putting one down as he counted off the names. “In no particular order… Death Cab for Cutie… um, Relient K…” he cast a sidelong glance at Tyler for signs of agreement or disapproval, but found his face unreadable, so he continued. “I guess I’d have to say blink-182, Switchfoot…” he paused with one finger still up. Josh briefly considering saying “twenty one pilots,” partially to see what Tyler would do, and partially because it was true. 

He chickened out.

“...and Mutemath, for sure,” he finished.

Tyler’s eyes widened. “Mutemath? Are you serious?”

“Yeah, completely,” said Josh, frowning defensively. “Why? Not your thing?”

“No, no,” said Tyler quickly, “I just… wait, okay, first of all, I thought you were going to say Rancid.” 

Josh raised his eyebrows in confusion, primarily at how Tyler had guessed that he liked Rancid, before he smirked and pointed down at the t-shirt he was wearing. 

“Oh.” Josh blushed slightly. “Okay, well… they’re definitely up there too.” 

Tyler gave him a thumbs up. “Solid choice,” he affirmed. “But secondly… I've literally never met anyone else who’s into Mutemath. They're one of my favorite bands. That’s why I was surprised”

Josh’s face broke into a huge grin. “Really? They're so sick, aren't they? Darren King is a huge drumming inspiration for me. And honestly, their self-titled album pretty much got me through high school.” 

“Oh my god, yes,” breathed Tyler, suddenly serious. Josh got the feeling that Tyler knew exactly what it felt like for high school to need to be _gotten through._ Once again, he was struck with the overwhelming urge to know anything and everything about Tyler; his past, his present, what he wanted from the future. 

“That and Transatlanticism, by Death Cab,”

Tyler added.

Josh thought he might actually start crying. How had there ever been a time without this boy in his life? _Tyler liked Transatlanticism._

Tyler didn’t seem to notice Josh’s moment of awe. “I saw them once, actually. Mutemath,” he clarified. “In Pittsburg. They were opening for this other band I didn’t really care about, but they did a few songs, and “Chaos” was one of them. Everyone around me knew the lyrics, and it was seriously insane.” 

“Dude,” said Josh, eyes widening. “That song is my freaking _jam!_ ” 

Tyler threw his head back and laughed, and Josh smiled nervously along with him. 

“You should for sure try to see them, though,” said Tyler, once he had stopped giggling. “Especially when they’re headlining. They deserve a crowd that’s there for them, you know? And that doesn’t really happen when you’re an opener.” 

Josh nodded, agreeing. He knew what that was like.

“You never know,” said Josh. “Maybe you’ll be opening for them someday! I can see it now,” he said, gesturing dramatically in front of him. “Mutemath, featuring openers Twenty One Pilots.” 

Tyler grinned. “I don’t know man, what about you? Mutemath, featuring House of Heroes!” he said, mimicking Josh’s gesture. 

He laughed out loud at that. Somehow House of Heroes and Mutemath were two things that he couldn’t see going together, primarily because he associated them with two such distinct phases of his life. And besides, if Josh was being honest, he knew that when it came down to it, his dreams didn’t truly involve House of Heroes. 

This time, Tyler seemed to sense the shift in Josh’s thinking. 

“I think your band is great, you know,” he murmured, prodding Josh’s leg with his sock foot.

“Oh,” said Josh, surprised. His leg tingled where Tyler had touched it, and he already missed the contact. “Well, I can’t really take much credit. I’ve barely even been in the studio with them, so whatever you’ve heard is most likely not me.” He fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he spoke, looking down at his lap. 

“That’s what YouTube is for, dummy,” Tyler giggled, and then - was Josh imagining things? - he seemed to redden a little as he looked away. 

Josh tried to focus his gaze on anything other than the dips and curves of Tyler’s profile, or the way his eyelashes brushed the skin below his eyes as he looked down, but he was finding it difficult to tear his eyes away. His reverie was broken when Tyler spoke: 

“Your turn,” he said simply, smiling up at Josh. He almost didn’t realize what Tyler meant, until he remembered their game. 

“Oh.” His mind raced, trying to think of a good question to ask, eventually deciding to play it safe. “Um. Okay. This one is going to be a really important test of your potential as a friend.” He paused, smiling. “Top three menu items at Taco Bell. Choose wisely.” 

“Ughhhhh,” groaned Tyler, tipping his head back. “You’re killing me.” 

Josh giggled. “What, you think this is harder than top three bands?”

“Yes,” snapped Tyler playfully. “Alright. Number one has to be the Cheesy Gordita Crunch. I’ve literally written part of a song about that taco.” 

Josh’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?” 

Tyler nodded, clearly trying to suppress laughter. Josh still wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not. 

“Don’t ask,” Tyler laughed. “Okay. Second… I guess probably the chicken burrito. Can’t really go wrong with that. And then third is probably the chalupa.” 

“Jeez,” said Josh, shaking his head. “I brought all the wrong stuff!” 

“Nah man,” said Tyler, cracking a huge smile in Josh’s direction. “Tacos are a staple. Can’t live without some plain and simple beef and cheese.” 

Josh was really starting to grow fond of that smile. 

“Alright, alright. My turn,” said Tyler. “Okay. Um. Top… three… venues. That you want to play. As a headliner.”

Josh was regretting asking Tyler such a shallow question, when all of his were much deeper. 

“Jeez. Okay.” Josh took a breath. “I guess the Newport would have to be the first one, but that’s old hat for you,” he laughed. 

“Yeah, okay, but not like… sold out, as a headliner,” said Tyler. “Plus, you've probably played way bigger venues than that.”

He was right. They'd definitely hit some bigger halls on tour, but somehow, the Newport felt like it was on another level. It was the go-to local venue; the dream that you tried to reach for. 

“I get it,” said Tyler, as if reading his thoughts. “It was pretty cool to play there for the first time, actually. Although obviously we’re still going on at 10:00 and barely filling up the pit at this point, so it's not quite… _the Newport._ ” 

Josh shrugged. “You'll get there.”

“Yeah?” said Tyler, the corners of his mouth turning up. 

“Yeah,” replied Josh. “You don't think?”

“No, I do,” said Tyler immediately, and then ducked his head. “Sorry. That came out so conceited. But I have to be optimistic. If I can't believe in this music, then I can't really believe in anything, you know?”

Josh’s heart fluttered. “Yeah,” he repeated. 

“Yeah.” 

Tyler seemed to become lost in thought for a moment.

“Sorry, I… I don't really tend to tell people that right after meeting them,” he admitted quietly, eyebrows furrowed, and Josh felt his chest grow warm with the idea that Tyler trusted him. 

“No, I mean… me neither. Yeah,” he said lamely.

“I guess it sounds dumb,” Tyler continued, his feet pressing absent-mindedly against Josh’s leg again, “but I have pretty big dreams. I don't know. I know I'm supposed to say that I’d be happy playing locally like this for the rest of my life, and to an extent that’s probably true, but like… I want my music to go places. Whatever that means.”

“Sure,” said Josh, “I totally understand. You want people to know who you are.” 

“I mean,” sighed Tyler, leaning back against the couch and folding his legs under him, “it sounds so self-absorbed when you frame it like that. But I think the idea of one day playing to huge crowds who know all the words to my songs is part of what motivates me to keep writing.” 

Josh nodded. His mind was flooded once again with his daydream from this morning: him and Tyler onstage, in front of the sold-out Newport, with the whole crowd singing along. 

“Hey man, there’s nothing wrong with dreaming big. I think about that stuff too. Not the words so much, obviously, but just… people knowing your name. Is that stupid?” Josh asked. 

“No,” said Tyler immediately. “I think it’s hopeful.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But more than anything,” Tyler continued, “I think I want people to be able to use my music the way I’ve used music my whole life. You know?”

“Absolutely,” Josh replied immediately. “Like… to take you somewhere. To get you…”

“...from point A to point B,” Tyler supplied. “Exactly.” 

For a few moments, they just stared at each other, grinning slightly. Josh couldn’t help feeling a chill run through him at how in sync they already seemed to be. As cliche as it sounded, something about this entire conversation felt overwhelmingly like a piece of his life falling into place.

“Not to sound corny,” said Tyler, voicing Josh’s thoughts, “but I feel like we’re going to get along really well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somebody get Josh an inhaler
> 
>  
> 
> [also yell at me on [tumblr](http://flightlessnerds-ao3.tumblr.com)]


	4. We're All Diseased

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that my updates are taking so long. I went on a road trip and ended up doing a lot more reading than writing, but now I'm back! Thanks for reading |-/

Early mornings were not on Tyler’s list of favorite things. And yet, on the Saturday following the Newport show, he found himself in the passenger seat of his Mom’s SUV at 8:30 in the morning, heading for the yard sale that their church was hosting that day. He had agreed to arrive early with her and lend a hand in setting up the tables, partially out of guilt for his lack of recent attendance at services, and partially because when it came to things like this, he could never say no to his mother. 

It had been almost a week since the Sunday night that Josh had spent at the rental house. They had ended up staying awake well into the morning, alternating between heated video game tournaments and quiet conversations about what they wanted from life. And while Tyler tended to be a pretty competitive guy when it came to Mario Kart, the energy in the room seemed to grow even higher in the quieter moments, as they slowly admitted pieces of their dreams to one another. Tyler had had no idea why he was telling Josh these things, especially when he was practically still a stranger; but once he had gotten started, he hadn’t been able to stop. Something about Josh’s composure - a balance between lightheartedness and total sobriety - made Tyler trust him completely. 

Or maybe it was just the warmth of those _eyes._

“Alright, here we are,” announced his mother, pulling Tyler sharply out of his daydream. They were turning into the parking lot of the church, where the staff were already setting up dozens of empty tables. As soon as they were out of the car, a smiling middle-aged man was walking towards them, hands outstretched in greeting. 

“One third of the Josephs!” he greeted, clasping a hand on each of their shoulders. 

“Hi, Dave,” Tyler replied, greeting the Pastor by his first name, which he had insisted they do for as long as Tyler could remember. 

Dave smiled warmly. “Thank you so much for showing up early, both of you.”

Tyler scuffed his feet in the dirty ground of the parking lot, only half-listening as Dave and his mother tried to figure out where their help was needed, eventually setting on the area for book and music donations. 

“And while your mother’s getting started on that,” said Dave, turning to Tyler, “can I have a quick word with you, Tyler?” The two adults shared a glance at this, and Tyler’s stomach flipped over. He knew exactly what this conversation was going to be, so he figured that he might as well get it over with. 

“Of course, sir,” Tyler said, nodding, and followed Dave to the other end of the lot, which opened onto the grassy garden area behind the church. 

“Let’s walk, Tyler.” 

They strolled in silence along the fence that separated the lawn from the parish garden, Dave occasionally commenting on the flowers or the weather, or something about the yard sale. Tyler found himself wishing that he would just get to the point, so that this entire morning would be one step closer to being over. 

“Tyler,” Dave said for what felt like the hundredth time. 

“Yes, sir?” 

It seemed as if the Pastor wasn’t sure how to broach this conversation. He stopped, leaning against the fence. Tyler saw him sigh, and then look over to him with a somewhat sad twinkle in his eye. 

“We’ve been missing you on Sundays,” he said. 

Tyler just nodded guiltily, looking down. 

“I think you know that normally, I don’t like to interfere with this kind of thing. My job is to act as an intermediary between God and the community, not to pass judgments about anyone’s personal relationship with their faith.” He paused, and kept walking. 

“In this case, however,” he continued, “I felt the need to reach out to you personally. I've known you for a long time now, Tyler. I've watched you grow up. And your recent distance from the church is a source of concern for me, especially knowing what an engaged member of the community you have always been.” 

Tyler had known that this talk was coming, but that still didn't lessen any of his shame as he pointedly avoided the Pastor’s gaze. He was about to speak, but Dave continued before he had the chance.

“Again, I’m not here to berate you, or to try to impose a strict model of faith upon you,” he assured. “You’ve always had a very personal and passionate relationship with what you believe, especially for someone your age, and I respect that.” 

He looked to Tyler, as if expecting him to say something, before he went on. 

“So if there’s any particular reason that you’ve felt the need to distance yourself from services recently, anything that you’re worried might make you unwelcomed, I want to assure you that you are indeed welcome here, and that we will support you however we can.” 

“I - I know,” Tyler spluttered, genuinely taken aback at his words.

Dave smiled, but his eyes still looked somewhat sad and wary. “Okay, Tyler. I’m glad. But if you’re struggling with anything in particular, anything that you feel you might need guidance with, or if you just need someone to lend an ear, please don't hesitate to ask.” 

He nodded, wracking his mind and trying to figure out what it was that Dave thought he knew. Tyler’s history with mental illness wasn't a big secret, but there was no way that Dave was referring to that, was there? It had been a long time since any of that had been brought up at church.

The Pastor clapped a hand to Tyler’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. 

“I won’t make you talk about anything you aren’t ready to talk about,” he insisted. “You know where to find me.”

And with a quick squeeze of Tyler’s shoulder, he was walking back out towards the yard sale tables, leaving Tyler wide-eyed and open-mouthed by the fence. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind and prepare himself to greet a hundred church ladies with a smile plastered on his face. 

He wandered back to the table where his mother was standing, and found her unpacking mounds and mounds of used books, VHS tapes and cassettes from the donation boxes. If his mother had somehow been in on their conversation, as he expected she had, she gave no indication of it. 

“There you are,” she chirped, handing him a heavy box of cassettes. “I thought you could be in charge of music, seeing as that’s your area of expertise nowadays!” 

He knew that she was being totally genuine and that she hadn’t intended to come off as sarcastic or derisive, but he still felt a twinge at the remark. Ever since he had chosen college over basketball, and then music over college, he hadn’t been able to shake the notion that he was letting his parents down terribly, although they would never say that to his face.

Nevertheless, he was actually quite pleased to be given this task, out of all the possible assignments. He probably had a cassette player buried somewhere in his stuff at the rental house, and he was always on the lookout for new music. 

There were about four boxes of cassettes, and it took him right up until the start of the sale to work out a system for organizing them. He debated between sorting them by genre or alphabetically by artist, eventually settling for the former. He was just starting on the last box when a group of guys wearing a lot of black wandered up to the table. Tyler looked up to give them a polite smile, and noticed that the guy at the front, who had long light brown hair, looked slightly familiar. 

“Hey, stranger,” came a very familiar voice among the group. Tyler’s head snapped up, and found Josh standing before him, with a huge smile on his face. He realized that he must have recognized the other guy from YouTube. This was House of Heroes. 

Tyler’s face broke into an equally large grin.

“Josh,” he greeted, savoring the shape of the name in his mouth. “What are you doing here?” 

“This is my church!” he answered, and Tyler’s eyebrows raised. “And, judging by your apron and cash box, I’m guessing that it’s yours too!” 

Tyler realized that he shouldn’t have been surprised; they had a fairly large congregation, and it was entirely plausible that the two of them had been crossing paths for years without realizing it. But somehow the idea that he’d been been in such close proximity to Josh without noticing him for all this time seemed ridiculous to Tyler. 

“Uh,” said Tyler, remembering that he was supposed to be giving Josh an answer. “Yes. We’ve been coming here, like, forever.” 

“Sick,” said Josh, before beginning to thumb through the nearest box of cassette tapes. “Anyway, we were just finishing up practice, and I figured I’d check out the sale for drum stuff, but no luck. Some nice tapes, though,” he said, grinning. 

“I didn’t know anyone even listened to cassettes anymore,” Tyler admitted. 

Josh pulled out a Metallica tape, flipping it over to inspect it, before returning it to the box. “Yeah, my thousand-year-old truck still doesn’t have a CD deck, so it’s that or the radio while I’m driving to work,” he explained. “Or maybe it’s just that I’m a huge hipster.” He smiled up at Tyler, his tongue between his teeth. 

The other band members had continued to linger awkwardly around the table, but were beginning to disperse and head toward the other side of the lot. 

“We’ll be over there, Joshua,” said the guy with the long hair, pointing over to the garden where Dave had spoken to Tyler earlier. He saw Josh nod in acknowledgement, before turning back to the table.

“That’s Tim. Those are, uh, those are the guys from the band I’m playing with,” he explained. Tyler nodded and made a quiet noise of understanding. He didn’t know why, but something about seeing Josh with the rest of House of Heroes sent an unpleasant twinge through his stomach. 

“We’re actually going on tour at the beginning of June,” Josh explained, running a hand through the back of his hair. “Which reminds me, I was, uh - I was going to ask if you guys had any more shows this month? Because I’d… um. I’d love to see you again before I go. You guys, I mean. Your band. Twenty one pilots.” He turned slightly pink, and Tyler had to hold in a giggle at Josh’s endearing awkwardness, which he was quickly becoming very fond of. You didn’t look at Josh and think that he was going to be awkward, but then he came out with sentences like that which made you want to listen to his endless litanies of polite clarifications for the rest of time. 

“We don’t have any in Columbus,” Tyler replied honestly. “We’re doing a couple around Cleveland, but that’s all we have booked so far.” 

“Ah,” said Josh, face falling.

“But I’ll definitely let you know if anything else comes up!” Tyler said hurriedly. “And, uh, I can text you, or Chris can tell you, obviously…” 

“No, um, yeah, you should text me,” Josh mumbled. “Um. If you want. Yeah.” His hand moved back to his hair and he looked down at his shoes. 

“Josh!” came a faint shout from across the parking lot, and Josh seemed to ignore it rather pointedly.

“In the meantime,” Tyler began tentatively, "I’d be up for another round of tacos and videogames.” _And staying up all night talking,_ he thought to himself. 

Josh smiled again, a huge grin that made his eyes crinkle up. “Absolutely,” he agreed. “And I’ll definitely be sure to bring Gorditas.” 

“Nope,” Tyler said. “Taco Bell is on me next time. And in return, you can continue to let me school you in Mario Kart.” 

“Ouch! ” Josh objected, but the smile stayed in his eyes. “I would take you up on that right now, but sadly I have to work at 11:00, and you -” 

“Joshua!” the distant voice interrupted again, and Tyler looked over to see Tim beckoning Josh over to the garden area with an annoyed expression. 

“He seems pleasant,” Tyler murmured quietly, and Josh burst out laughing. 

“Tim’s not a bad guy,” Josh insisted, though somewhat noncommittally. They both glanced over toward the garden again, and saw Tim waving his arms and gesturing for him to come over. 

“Uh, it’s fine if you want to go over there,” said Tyler.

Josh scowled, and Tyler felt slightly gratified that it seemed like Josh would rather be spending his time talking to him. 

“I’ll just be five seconds, okay?” Josh promised, and then gestured to the piles of tapes in front of them. “It’ll give you enough time to pick out some rad music for me before I get back.”

He gave Tyler a weak smile and a wink before turning to make his way across the lawn and towards his band mates. Reluctantly, Tyler turned back and started sorting the tapes, looking for one that Josh might like. His only point of reference was to look for something that he would like, and hope that Josh would feel the same way. So far, it seemed like they liked a lot of the same things. 

He smiled at that thought, ducking his head down, as if to hide his moment of satisfaction and keep it for himself. 

_I bet the guys in House of Heroes have shitty tastes in music,_ he told himself. 

 

\--------

 

When Josh walked up, Tim was sitting on the fence that enclosed the garden, using the sharpened end of a stick to scratch the letters _HOH_ into the old wood. 

“Who’s your friend, Joshua?” he questioned. 

“He’s in that band you were fangirling about awhile ago, right?” added AJ, innocently. 

“What band?” Tim immediately asked, a smirk plastered on his face as he abandoned his scratching and turned around to face Josh. 

“Uh,” said Josh, faltering. He didn’t like the direction this was going in. Tim was a good guy at heart, but he wasn’t the most tactful person that Josh had ever met. “Um, twenty one pilots?” 

Tim’s expression was blank for a second, before an amused grin broke out on his face. 

“Dude, I totally know who you’re talking about! I didn’t recognize the guy before, but he’s the one who jumps around rapping about being super depressed, right? Classic.” 

Josh scoffed. “I guess that’s one way of putting it, Tim.” He scuffed the ground with his foot, debating how defensive he should let himself get. “And his name is Tyler, okay?” 

Tim held his hands up in mock defense. “Jeez man, alright, sorry.” 

“Hey, knock the dude all you want,” AJ piped up, “but his little band is probably selling more tickets than we are right now.” 

Josh was torn between a laugh and a groan. He was kind of sickly satisfied that AJ had indirectly stuck up for Tyler like that, but he knew that a shitstorm was probably brewing now that Tim had been knocked off his pedestal. 

Predictably, Tim’s face turned sour. 

“Yeah, well, he’s probably gay as hell, so I’m still counting my blessings,” he sneered, and a few other guys chuckled. 

“ _Watch it,_ ” snapped Josh heatedly. 

None of the House of Heroes guys knew about Josh’s sexuality, partially because it had never been brought up, and partially because Josh had witnessed too many casual conversations like this between the other guys. 

Tim narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Why?”

Josh swallowed. “Just… don’t be such a dick, Tim,” he scoffed, and then turned on his heel and walked back in the direction they had come from. 

Josh ignored the mixed protests from the rest of the group behind him as he stalked back towards the church lawn, heading straight for Tyler’s table. At first, he didn’t see anyone behind the stacks of cassettes, and he started to worry that he had left before Josh got the chance to say goodbye. But as he neared the table, he saw Tyler kneeling on the grass behind it, holding a soft conversation with a little girl who Josh recognized from the church’s children’s choir. He seemed to be playing some kind of hand game with her, holding both of his palms outstretched and then pulling them away before the girl could slap them. 

Josh couldn’t bring himself to interrupt them, so he just stood back by the table and watched their game unfold, feeling his lips being pulled into a smile at the gentle, laughing boy in front of him. 

“He’s wonderful with her, isn’t he?” said a woman’s voice from beside him, startling Josh. He turned to face her, and determined from her bright red hair and fond expression that she must be the girl’s mother. 

“Yeah,” Josh agreed fondly. “He really is.” 

The woman smiled at the scene on the grass, her eyes scanning her daughter’s movements. “Ruby’s never more vocal than when she’s around Tyler. She’ll even talk about seeing him during the week. It breaks her heart when he doesn’t come on Sundays.” 

Josh didn’t know what she was talking about, but he nodded silently. 

“Are you a friend of Tyler’s?” Ruby’s mother continued. 

“Yes,” said Josh without hesitation. “A new friend,” he added. 

She smiled. “Well, you’re very lucky to have his light in your life. We all are.” 

_I know,_ Josh thought to himself. He felt a powerful rush of affection for his friend that warmed his whole body. A loud noise from Tyler broke his reverie. 

“Arghhh!” Josh heard him yell in mock agony, throwing his head back with a huge grin as Ruby slapped at his hands over and over. 

“Y- you lose!” she squealed, before Tyler attacked her with tickles, and they fell sideways onto the grass. 

Ruby’s mother stepped over to the pair, pulling her daughter upright and smoothing out her hair as she continued to giggle. 

“Time to go, sweetheart! Give Tyler a hug.” 

The girl rushed over and threw her arms around Tyler’s waist, looking up at him with adoration. Tyler turned to say something to her mother, but caught Josh’s eye instead, his face shifting into something between surprise, amusement, and what Josh thought was probably slight embarrassment at being caught in the midst of being a human teddy bear. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, lips quirking upward. 

“Hey,” Josh breathed. 

Their mutual gaze was broken as Ruby was finally pulled away by her mother, who called over her shoulder that she hoped they would see Tyler tomorrow morning. 

“So that was… uh,” said Tyler, brushing grass stains off his knees and avoiding Josh’s gaze slightly. 

“That was super cute,” Josh supplied, and Tyler laughed. “She obviously adores you. And her Mom seems to think you walk on water.” 

Tyler looked down as the corners of his mouth turned up, which was quickly becoming one of Josh’s favorite little quirks about him. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “She’s just really a great kid. It’s like… you can look at her, and be reminded that pure, uncorrupted goodness still exists, you know?” 

Josh nodded in agreement, trying to keep his expression neutral as his heart continued to melt out of his chest. 

“Hey, you promised me some music recs,” he reminded Tyler, changing the subject, and they moved back to the table together. Most of the music seemed to either be classical, or early 2000s pop. He watched Tyler thumb past Yo Yo Ma and Britney Spears, until his entire face lit up as he pulled a tape out from the pile, and turned to face Josh with an almost childlike expression of excitement. 

“Okay. Alright.” Tyler bit his lip and turned the cassette so Josh could see it. “This is probably not going to be what you were expecting.” 

“I didn’t have any expectations” Josh replied. In fact, Josh thought that he probably would have been happy to listen to the Teletubbies soundtrack if Tyler recommended it. 

“Here,” Tyler said, handing him the tape. “You liked the Sigur Rós album that I played for you last week, right?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s been on repeat ever since you leant it to me,” Josh told him. 

Tyler beamed. “Then I’m pretty sure you’ll like this.” 

Josh looked down at the abstract blue design of the insert. “In a Safe Place,” he read. “By… The Album Leaf? That’s their name?” 

“Yup,” said Tyler. “Just… give it a listen. You might hate it, I don’t know. But there’s some really good stuff on there. I don’t know why anyone would have dumped it here,” he added. 

Josh reached into his back pocket for his wallet, but Tyler held out his hand to stop him. 

“Please, Josh, it’s like ten cents or something. You’re covered.” 

“Oh,” said Josh. “Are you sure? You’re not going to get like… excommunicated because you’re withholding money from the church or something?” 

“Jeez, I didn’t think about that,” said Tyler, rolling his eyes. Josh grinned and fished around in his pocket for a dime, handing it to Tyler. 

“Here. Wouldn’t want to be responsible for you becoming a heathen,” he joked, and Tyler snorted. 

He watched Tyler pull his phone out of his pocket and check the time. 

“Not that I’m trying to get rid of you,” Tyler frowned, “but don’t you have work at eleven?” He turned the phone to show Josh the display, which read 10:45. 

Josh grimaced in surprise and pulled out his car keys. “Crap. I’m going to be late.” 

“Oh jeez,” said Tyler innocently. “Sorry I kept you!” 

“No,” Josh corrected him immediately. “I have this sick album now to listen to while I drive, so it was one hundred percent worth it.” He stood there for a second longer, knowing that he had to end the conversation somehow, but wishing he didn’t have to. 

And then before he could even comprehend what was happening, Tyler was slinging both arms around him and pulling him in for a gentle hug. It ended as quickly as it had started, and Josh was torn between feeling like the ground had just dropped out from underneath him, and feeling like the embrace had gone by so fast that he’d missed the whole thing. 

“Uh,” said Tyler sheepishly. “Text me when you listen to the album?”

Josh grinned. “You know it.” 

“Now get out of here before you’re… you know. Excommunicated from Guitar Center.” 

 

\--------

 

“Was that a friend of yours?” 

Tyler had been watching the suburbs pass by through the passenger window as they drove back to the rental house, and was startled by his mother’s question. It took him a second to realize that she was talking about Josh. 

“Oh. Yeah,” he replied. 

His mother smiled politely. “He seems nice. You two certainly seem to get along very well.” 

Tyler wondered if she had seen them hug goodbye. He still felt a dull urge to bang his head against a wall for doing that. Josh probably thought it was really weird, and he still wasn’t sure what possessed him to do it, but - as he often seemed to be saying about Josh - it had just felt right. 

“What’s his name?” his mother probed, startling him slightly again.

“Josh.” 

“I see.” She seemed to be studying his face intently, as if looking for something, though Tyler had no idea what. “You know that I’m here to listen if you want to talk about anything, right baby?” she added, and Tyler gave her a questioning look. 

“Um,” he said, thrown off by the sudden change in subject. “Yeah? But what does that have to do -” 

“And you know that as your mother, it's my job to love you unconditionally, right?” she interrupted.

He frowned, and looked over to see her pursing her lips in a way that reminded him a little too much of Pastor Dave, and he began to grow suspicious. 

“Does this have anything to do with what Dave was saying earlier?” he demanded. The idea of the two of them having conversations about Tyler behind his back made his stomach turn over in a not altogether pleasant way. “I told him I’ll come to church tomorrow, and I will, Mom.” 

His mother looked at him somewhat sympathetically, and he found himself fidgeting guiltily under her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he added as an afterthought, when she didn’t say anything. He let the slightest bit of acidity creep into his voice. “I know I’m letting you all down and it probably seems like I’m losing my faith, but it’s complicated. I’ll be there tomorrow, I promise.” 

To his surprise, his mother slowed the car, and pulled into the shoulder, still several miles from Tyler’s neighborhood. For a moment he thought that she was going to lecture him about his tone of voice, but he turned to find her looking back at him with that same expression in her eyes - a mixture of sympathy and something else that Tyler couldn’t quite place. 

“Tyler, honey,” she began, her voice soothing but purposeful. “You are not letting anybody down. Please don't say that. Whatever is going on, we’re not going to judge you.”

She tilted her head, as if expecting him to say something. 

“I'm, um. I'm taking all my meds, Mom,” he murmured, trying not to sound defensive. 

“Oh honey, I know you are,” she assured him. “That's not what I mean.”

Tyler just stared at her blankly. It was as if she and Dave were both speaking the same foreign language. What was it that they were expecting him to understand?

His mother unbuckled her seatbelt so that she could swivel to face him fully. 

“I'm going to ask you a question, Tyler, but you have to promise not to freak out and get upset with me, alright?” 

“Okay,” Tyler said blankly. 

She quirked her head to the side. “Honey, what is Josh to you? A friend?” she asked. And then, when Tyler didn’t say anything, “a boyfriend?”

She said it so casually that it took Tyler a moment to register what she had said.

His eyes widened, and he felt his heart leap to his throat. “What?” he yelped. “Mom, what are you talking about?” 

“Sweetie, you said you wouldn't get angry, remember? I'm just asking you a question.” She moved to lay a hand on Tyler’s arm but he yanked it away, and a pained expression crossed her face. “Tyler,” she continued, “I want to make sure you know that your father and I will accept you for whoever you are.”

“But -” he spluttered, “that's not - I'm not -”

“And the most important thing to any of us is that you're happy, so if Josh makes you happy -”

“Mom!” shouted Tyler, forcing her to stop speaking. “Josh is not my boyfriend. I barely even know him… we... w- we literally met last week.”

“Oh,” said his mother, seeming genuinely surprised. 

“And besides,” he continued, “I have no idea what makes you think that I'm - that… I mean, Mom, I've had girlfriends!” 

She chuckled.

“Sure, in high school, Tyler! But not for a long time! I just don't want you to feel like you have to hide anything, in fear of being judged by us or the congregation, or anybody!” 

Tyler’s heart was pounding so hard, it was all he could feel or focus on. His breathing started to grow shallow as panic overwhelmed him. 

“You talked to Dave about this?” he shouted, growing more and more frenzied as all the pieces started to come together. “And Dad? You - you made them think -” 

“Tyler, Tyler!” his mother interjected, growing slightly frantic as well. “We just want to support you! Please, trust me!”

He felt himself shaking all over. Nothing made sense. 

“I'm not gay,” he choked out, barely audibly, and then before he knew it, he was opening the car door and running. 

He ignored his mother’s cries of his name and the sound of her car starting back up; the only thing on his mind was the need to get away. Before he could even make a conscious decision about where to go, he was veering off the sidewalk and onto a wooded path that cut through to the house where he had grown up.

He and his brother Zack had practically spent half their childhoods here, and though he hadn't been back for years, his feet carried him automatically downhill and towards a pebbly stream that ran through the dirt and leaves. 

Tyler knew that his mother was probably worried sick, and that running off from her was a childish thing to do, but he felt like his brain wasn't working right now. 

Pulling out his phone, he opened up the note that he kept for moments like this; fragments of songs and random lyrics stretched down for pages, only ever getting deleted when they officially made it into a song, and even then, usually only after the song had been recorded or performed. 

_You’re not what you're supposed to be,_ he wrote. 

He tried to focus on the sounds around him - the midday rustling of trees, the crackling of leaves under his feet, leftover from the previous fall, the gentle rush of the creek, the very distant sound of traffic - but still, he felt like he was being forcibly pulled away from his body; like the forest itself was trying to stifle his breath. He began to type again, his thumbs flying across the screen. 

_This is not what you’re supposed to see,_  
_Please, remember me? I am supposed to be_  
_King of a kingdom, or swinging on a swing_  
_Something happened to my imagination_  
_This situation’s becoming dire,_  
_My treehouse is on fire,_  
_And for some reason I smell gas on my hands…_

Tyler dropped his phone into his lap, hunching over and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he tried to even out his breathing. He thought of the way his mother’s calm questions had knocked all the air out of his lungs. He thought of Dave’s quiet concern about Tyler’s struggle with his faith. He thought of how warm Josh’s chest had felt against his own when they had hugged.

He didn't understand anything. He opened his phone again.

_This is not what I had planned._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a disclaimer, i know nothing about the guys from House of Heroes, and they’re probably really nice people since Jishwa likes them, so sorry Tim. 
> 
> Anyway this chapter was definitely longer than the first three. Let me know if that’s okay / how you feel about the fic in general so far! Are you enjoying it? What do you want to see more or less of? Feedback is always welcome! :)


	5. Help Me Carry On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just kind of... happened. I did not plan it to go this way, but here we are. Sorry for all the lengthy description - I promise there is dialogue towards the end.
> 
> You also may have noticed that the rating has changed. *waggles eyebrows.* I wanted to give you a drop of water in this slow-burning desert. 
> 
> Finally, this chapter may be very triggering to people who deal with self harm, including past self harm. No one actually does it, but there is extensive description of a very near relapse. Stay safe, frens. |-/

It was July.

House of Heroes were on tour, and Tyler lived every sweaty summer day with the painful awareness that he was stuck in Ohio. Even the little “tours” that twenty one pilots did to Cleveland and Toledo felt pretty inconsequential compared to the pictures Josh was texting him from New York and San Francisco, let alone London and Korea.

Still, the band was alive and well. This was the life that Tyler had intended when he’d dropped out of school. They built up little pockets of fans in every new city and every new venue, and while fame still seemed like a distant and unfamiliar concept, their following on social media was growing every day.

At one particularly energized show, someone from the venue crew had walked up to Tyler with an enthusiastic looking guy holding a video camera, who introduced himself as Mark. The venue guy explained that he’d tagged along with one of their sponsoring organizations, and was here to do some video work, if that was okay with Tyler.

Somehow, Mark had ended up coming along for post-show tacos with the rest of the band, and Tyler got the chance to look at some of Mark’s footage.

It was fantastic. 

He'd invited him to film at the next gig without a second thought, and before he knew it, Mark had essentially become a fixture at their shows, like a silent fourth member. 

Tyler didn't mind the addition at all; he was quickly discovering that Mark was exactly the kind of guy that he liked having around all the time. He was friendly, sure, but it was more than that. There was just something trustworthy and reassuring about him, something akin to what Tyler had first seen in Josh, the day they’d first met at the Newport. It was the inexplicable feeling that Mark just _got_ what the band was about, and what Tyler was trying to do with their music. He gradually became more and more involved with each show, scurrying around with his camera like a loyal puppy, and Tyler had no problem letting him. Mark fit right in. 

Plus, he made a pretty solid Mario Kart opponent, although their late night battles lacked the moments of quiet lucidity that always accompanied his time with Josh.

He and Josh had only grown closer after their initial few weeks of hanging out. The two of them had seen each other at least every other day in the weeks leading up to Josh’s departure, falling into an easy rhythm of junk food and red bull on the couch, and video game tournaments into the early hours, or going into record stores and picking out albums for each other, though they never had enough money to actually buy them. Some days were simply spent driving around Columbus in Josh’s pickup, looking for places they'd never been to before, just because it was something to do. Once, he had convinced Josh to climb onto the roof of a grocery store across the plaza from their regular Taco Bell, and Tyler thought that the exhilarated, almost giddy glint in Josh’s eye when they reached the top would probably be branded in his mind forever. 

Right before he was scheduled to leave Ohio, Josh had taken Tyler to Guitar Center and drummed for him. Nothing about the House of Heroes videos that Tyler had watched could have prepared him for the beast that Josh became when he sat down behind a kit. He had wanted so badly to jump up and grab the nearest instrument and play or sing along with Josh’s beat, but the idea of _doing music_ together still seemed somehow illicit. It didn't matter though. He could listen to Josh play all day. 

Nevertheless, despite hanging out regularly for over a month, Tyler felt like he and Josh didn't quite become best friends until he left for tour, and Tyler noticed a distinctly Josh shaped hole in his everyday life. So they filled the hole with phone calls and texts: Josh deliriously skyping him from Seoul at 5 a.m. after over-caffeinated show nights; Tyler grabbing his phone between sets to text Josh about song ideas before they slipped out of his head. 

But despite the constant contact, Tyler felt himself sliding back into a monotonous routine of survival, trudging through the haze of each week, sometimes remembering to take his meds, other times not bothering to notice that he'd forgotten. 

Every day was starting to feel more and more like Sunday. He’d started going to church again, partly to appease his family, but mostly because it was something familiar to do. And yet, Tyler couldn't shake the feeling that he was just going through the motions, hanging on until the next show, and even then, surviving only on the notion that one day, in the indeterminate future, Josh - a boy who he hadn't even known existed until two months ago - would be returning to Columbus. 

But then there was nighttime. 

Everything got worse when it was dark. The summer was becoming an endless string of hot, late nights, spent lying in bed and willing sleep to come. Usually, he ended up accidentally writing lyrics in his head, trying to distract himself from his own exhaustion. But sometimes, he allowed himself to wallow in the moments before sleep overtook him, letting reality slip away as he hovered on the precipice of nothing. 

Once in awhile, in these moments, he let himself think about Josh. Some nights, it was either that, or all-out chaos in his skull.

This was one of those nights.

Tyler pulled the covers up to his neck and let an ocean of _Josh_ wash over him. It had become almost a ritual for him, though he would certainly never admit it to anyone. He could barely admit it to himself - he still had to push the flood of guilt to the back of his mind every time he let himself indulge in this kind of luxurious thinking. But night wasn’t easy, and he wasn’t about to question something that helped him sleep. 

On these nights, he’d push aside everything about reality that would normally prevent his mind from wandering this far. He’d spread his arms out to the sides on the mattress, and let himself be consumed in the feeling of a warm body curled up with him, or above him, pressing down gently on his chest. 

At first, when he’d started to allow himself this fantasy, the form had just been an indeterminate and faceless shape, but the shape had slowly become male, and the man had quickly become Josh. In his waking hours, this knowledge would have sent Tyler reeling into panic, but at night, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Even just imagining the weight of Josh above him could calm his breathing and fill his racing mind with warmth and tranquility. Tyler could let himself be washed away in the idea of closeness, reconfiguring the empty air of his bedroom into warm hands, and lips, and stubble.

He’d usually come out of his reverie half-hard, but would force himself to roll over and ignore it as he drifted off. He didn’t need to feel any guiltier than he already did.

Tonight, though, sleep just wasn't coming. He and Nick and Chris had played a show in another tiny basement, and while the crowd had made it worthwhile, it had been cramped and hot and generally did not help the growing sense of entrapment that Tyler was feeling. Even after showering, his skin still had a lingering sheen of sweat, beading on his forehead as he stared up at the ceiling of his room. 

Tyler shifted uncomfortably against the sheets. The rental house’s air conditioning barely reached the basement, which was already hot to begin with. As usual, his nightly routine of hazy, languid fantasies had brought with it a degree of unwanted arousal, but tonight it felt almost unbearable. Though he was definitely more than half hard at this point, he convinced himself that it was just because of the heat and the pent up frustration of turning a blind eye to his dick for so long. He had tried falling asleep, tried humming his own songs to himself, but nothing was working, and the tent in his boxers was becoming harder to ignore. 

Finally, he relented. Breathing slowly, he ran his hands under his t-shirt, methodically giving the kind of attention to himself that he usually never permitted. He breath hitched slightly as his fingers grazed over his nipples, traveling ever lower. 

Slowly, he let his hand wander down to palm himself, once, twice, through the soft fabric of his boxers, grown slightly damp at the front in anticipation. He imagined that someone else’s fingers were toying at the hem, that someone else was wrapping a warm hand around his length. 

Tyler gave a quiet moan as he finally started to stroke himself in earnest, surrendering to his desperation with slow, tortured motions. The added heat of his arousal to the already warm room made sweat bead on his forehead, running down the sides of his face as he pumped his hand over and over. 

In the darkness of his room, every touch felt heightened. He was overly aware of the sliding of the sheets against his back and under his legs, the tacky warmth of his idle hand where it ghosted over his bare chest, the euphoric friction of his fingers, traveling slightly faster now, thumbing over his slit every few strokes.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, willing his mind to empty itself of everything other than physical sensation as he surrendered to his pleasure, but images flooded and flashed in his imagination before he could push them away.

Hands. Lips. Stubble.

He felt his muscles tensing, and he bucked into his fist, a high-pitched grunt escaping him as he came hard over his fingers. 

Tyler allowed himself a few languid, blissful moments to revel in the aftershocks before he opened his eyes. But eventually he had to acknowledge that he was sticky in more than one way now, so he rolled off his bed and padded toward the basement’s tiny bathroom, which, blissfully, he had to himself. 

He washed his hands thoroughly before splashing water on his face, and tilting his head up to stare at his reflection in the small mirror.

It was seeing his own face looking back at him that made the guilt hit him in the stomach all at once. He immediately felt sick. 

Tyler threw himself across the room, hunching over the toilet and breathing hard, but nothing happened. He stayed there, doubled over, for a few minutes, before surrendering to the fact that it was just his shame and his anxiety making him want to turn his guts inside out. 

He slid down to the floor, leaning against the toilet. He tried to focus on the soft rush of the bathroom fan, and the cool tiles beneath him, but - much like that day in the woods when he’d started writing “Forest” - it felt like he was being swallowed whole. 

His skin itched. He knew what he wanted to do.

Different bathroom, different floor, but he always seemed to end up here eventually, no matter how long he went without it, or how many tattoos he inked onto his skin in a drastic attempt at defiance and control. All it would take was the tiniest break in his resolve. All he would have to do is stand up.

Suddenly it was like he was on autopilot, his body moving forward as he rose to open the medicine cabinet above the sink, pulling out a little tin box painted with delicate flower designs. It had once held some kind of fancy candy, but it had been serving a different purpose for the last four or five years. Resuming his place on the floor, Tyler leaned his back against the toilet, and pulled a thin steel blade from the dozens in the box. 

Even after so long, this felt sickeningly familiar - the cold of the dull edge between his fingers, the glinting potential of the sharp side where it rested, waiting, against his bare thigh. A voice at the back of his head was screaming at him that this was _bad, so bad, not good,_ but the rest of his body, the part that still felt nauseous and paralyzed, was telling him otherwise. 

His mind wandered to a verse that he had sloppily written in a moment just like this one, long enough ago that it felt like a different universe. 

_Leave me with a razor just in case I fall face down on the ground, and somehow I found enough strength to lift my face and make a sound…_

Josh loved that song. It was one of the first things he’d ever said to Tyler.

_Josh._

He pulled out his phone and checked the time. 3:44. Josh would almost certainly be asleep. But even if he wasn’t, did Tyler really want to text him like this? Splayed out on the bathroom floor and holding a razor? 

Shakily, he laid the blade on the rim of the toilet seat, picking up his phone instead, and opening messages. 

**Tyler:** you awake?

He clicked off his phone, going back to scraping the razor gently against his leg, reveling in its lethal potential. He was on such incredibly thin ice right now, and he knew it.

His phone buzzed.

 **Josh:** mmmm barely what's up

Stupid. He was probably waking Josh up in the middle of the night when he had a show the next day. He was being such an incredibly selfish baby. He debated texting back ‘nothing,’ and telling Josh to go to sleep, but some instinctual part of his mind screamed at him that he needed to hold on to this conversation for dear life. 

After failing to reply to Josh for several minutes, Tyler’s phone buzzed with another text. 

**Josh:** you ok? 

Tyler took a breath, balancing the blade on his leg, and then typed out two messages in quick succession. 

**Tyler:** no

 **Tyler:** i’m gonna fuck up

Almost immediately, the screen of his phone lit up with an incoming call, accompanied by an unflattering close-up of Josh’s face that Tyler had taken weeks ago. He hesitated briefly before deciding to answer.

“Hey,” he huffed, suddenly teetering on the brink of tears. 

“Hey man,” came Josh’s still-sleepy voice over the line. “What’s going on? Talk to me.” 

Tyler shifted slightly against the cold tile.

“You didn't have to call,” he mumbled. The last thing he wanted was for Josh to see him as clingy or desperate. 

“It's okay, I wanted to,” Josh replied immediately. “Plus, I knew something must seriously be wrong, because you said ‘fuck,’” he added.

Tyler almost had to laugh at that. It was true, he almost never cursed, even in writing; but he was tired, and he was on the verge of tears, and delicacy wasn’t his first priority right now. He didn’t have any priorities right now, except maybe to feel something other than guilty.

“Tyler,” he heard Josh say, voice filled with nervous energy. “Is it - are you -” he hesitated. “Are you safe? You’re not, like, relapsing, are you?”

Tyler stiffened. Josh seemed to be skipping over a whole conversation that they hadn’t had yet. 

“How did you know that?” Tyler whispered. 

“Oh. I mean, I didn’t” Josh admitted. “I guess. But, I’ve…” 

“What?” Tyler pressed. 

He heard Josh let out a long breath. “I mean I’ve listened to your songs, Ty,” he finally said.

_Oh._

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you,” Tyler backtracked immediately, feeling his breath constricting as he spoke. Josh was right - this stuff belonged in his songs, not in reality, and certainly not in his friendships. He was finally about to make Josh realize how hard he was to handle, and that being his friend wasn't worth it. This is why he didn't _text_ people in moments like this. What has he been thinking? 

“No, Ty, it's fine, okay?” he heard Josh say. “Don't worry about that. I want - I mean… I'm here. I’m right here.” 

Tyler didn't say anything, he just focused on keeping every muscle in his body still so that his tears wouldn't spill over. 

“Tyler?” came Josh’s voice, after several moments of silence. “Where are you right now?” 

He swallowed. “Just - the house. Bathroom,” he croaked.

“Okay,” said Josh, “is anyone else up? Michael, or Travis? Maybe you could find -” 

“No,” Tyler said again, hurriedly. “They're not - I can't -” his breathing started to pick up again. This was bad, bad, bad…

“Shhhh, shh, alright,” Josh soothed. “Maybe go back to your room then?” he tried.

Tyler shook his head back and forth, even though he knew Josh couldn't see it. 

“Can't,” he squeaked. “I just - I can't move.”

“Are you hurt?” Josh asked, voice rising a little in concern. 

“No,” Tyler huffed. “I just… can't.” He didn't know how to articulate it any better, so he just willed Josh to understand that his muscles weren't working right now, that his brain wouldn't let him off this floor. 

“Can you just talk about something?” Tyler finally said. “Like literally anything, it doesn't matter, I just -” he swallowed. “It helps.” _You help._

“Yeah, of course,” said Josh, seeming relieved at being given a task. “Um. Well, we played this show last night in the Bowery, and -” 

“Not about House of Heroes,” Tyler cut him off sharply, sending Josh into surprised silence. “Um. Sorry. I mean - just anything but that. Sorry.” 

“Oh,” Josh said, but thankfully didn't question Tyler’s outburst. He wasn't sure how he would have answered. “Okay,” Josh went on, “have I ever told you about the time my sister decided she was going to sell my drum kit for ten dollars so she could buy a Barbie?” 

He fought back a smile. “No,” he murmured.

“Alright, so I was like fifteen or something, and Abbie must have been about seven, and we were having this big garage sale…”

Tyler leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he listened to Josh ramble on and on. After he finished the first story, he launched into one about buying his first album and hiding it under his floorboards so his parents wouldn't find it, and then into a long account of the time he snuck off to a blink-182 concert in Cincinnati and got grounded for a month. Josh never paused, never expected Tyler to speak, and he was incredibly grateful for that. Tyler just listened, breathing out an occasional laugh. This was a side of Josh he rarely got to see, and he thought he could probably listen to him talk about his family and his high school years forever. 

Somewhere along the way, the razor had slipped out of his fingers, and he was too distracted to try pick it up again. This - hearing Josh talk with total abandon like he was - felt like a dream; not a nightmare, or even a daydream, but the kind that you had to hold onto for dear life in fear that it would slip away as soon as you opened your eyes.

Josh eventually stopped trying to tell clear cut stories, and seemed instead to be stringing together bits and pieces of whatever came into his head. As his talking got less organized, it also got more serious, losing its performative note of humor. Tyler didn't mind the shift at all.. He talked about how First Corinthians was his favorite bible book and how it had helped him sort through what the church was telling him and what he really wanted to believe. He talked about seeing a therapist during his senior year, and how he'd hated every second of it but kept going because he didn't know what else to do about constantly feeling like the future was weighing down on his chest every second of every day.

Tyler had made a quiet noise at that, causing Josh to pause. 

“This okay?” he’d asked softly, waiting for Tyler’s affirmative answer before continuing. 

And then, after awhile, Tyler thought he must really be dreaming, because there was no way in the world that this was real. Josh’s hushed voice was coming through the line again, but this time he was humming a gentle song. It took Tyler a minute to realize that it was “What Sarah Said,” by Death Cab For Cutie. 

Tyler had never heard Josh sing before, and he was surprised to find that he actually had an incredibly soothing voice. He felt his breathing beginning to slow marginally as he focused on the familiar tune. And then the song was changing, and Josh was adding words. Tyler felt his heart constrict, tears leaping to his eyes again as he took in what Josh was singing. 

_Sometimes we will die, and sometimes we will fly away_  
_Either way you're by my side until my dying days_  
_And if I'm not there and I'm far away,_  
_I said don't be afraid,_  
_Don't be afraid, we’re going home_

“Taxi Cab,” Tyler breathed into the phone, as soon as his voice started working.

“Yeah,” he heard Josh murmur. “I've been listening to your album a lot. That one’s my favorite.”

Tyler felt tears flooding his eyes again, but for a very different reason this time. 

“You should let me play along with it sometime,” Josh continued, and Tyler started crying even harder. He could practically see Josh’s worried eyes across the country. He heard him making soothing _shhh_ noises, trying to calm Tyler down. 

But it didn't matter anymore. He didn't need to be calm. Crying was something he knew how to handle. It was so much easier than quiet paralysis. Crying was physical, and messy, and it had an end point, which was usually sleep. 

He tried to translate this to Josh, so that he could stop worrying, but all that came out of Tyler’s throat was another choked sob.

“Tyler?” Josh whispered, his voice laced with concern. “You doing okay?”

Tyler considered for a moment. 

“I am now,” he said. 

And he meant it.  

 

\--------

 

Hundreds of miles away, in the cheapest two-bed hotel room that midtown Manhattan could offer, Josh was listening to Tyler breathing into the phone. The other boy had fallen asleep at some point, but Josh still couldn't bring himself to hang up. As long as he could keep listening to Tyler’s slow, heavy, breaths, Josh could rest easy with the knowledge that he was safe and okay, at least for right now. 

The last hour had felt like a cross between hazy nightmare and stinging really. Nothing in the universe had mattered except Tyler’s safety, and yet, Josh had essentially been rendered helpless, paralyzed by geography. It was not a feeling he wanted to relive, and it had made the idea of going back to bed feel entirely impossible. 

In any case, it was too late now for Josh to make any further attempts at sleep. He had walked into the bathroom to talk to Tyler, but even from his vantage point on the floor, he could see that the sun was beginning to stream through the cheap blinds of their hotel room, shedding rays of light on his snoring bandmates, still sprawled across the beds in post-show exhaustion. 

This _was_ what he had always wanted, wasn't it? He wasn't a lone drummer in a basement anymore. He was touring with a band that he'd admired for years, traveling the country and even parts of the world. So why was he finding himself staying up on so many sleepless nights, just to lie in bed and long for Ohio? 

Maybe it was just homesickness, or exhaustion from the pressure, the _newness_ of the tour, and of playing professionally.

Maybe it was the knowledge that he wouldn't give a second thought before throwing all of it away to be with Tyler. Not just playing music with him, (although he still thought about that every day), but just being _near him,_ whether on his happiest day or in his darkest hour. 

Josh shook his head, clasping his hands where they rested against his knees as he stared at the tile floor. He couldn't just let himself think those kinds of things. Regardless even of the fact that Tyler was _straight,_ Josh knew that he needed him to be a friend before anything else. Any other feelings would have to be stuffed down and ignored, for both of their sakes. It was one thing to let his guard down once in awhile when he was hundreds or even thousands of miles away, but as soon as he was home, Josh would have to tuck those feelings back under his skin. _Which,_ he reminded himself, _is where they belonged._

Checking that the soft breathing coming through the line was still steady and slow, he lifted the phone to his lips once more, murmuring quietly:

_“Goodnight, Tyler.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all's comments mean so much to me, thank you :)
> 
> FYI, I wanted to let you folks know that if you ever can't read a chapter for trigger/discomfort reasons, I would be more than happy to give you a quick/safe summary of the parts you missed so that you can continue reading. Your comfort = my priority. This goes for all my fics. Just shoot me an ask on [tumblr](http://flightlessnerds-ao3.tumblr.com). xoxo


	6. Lose Your Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so long and angsty, I’m really sorry. Good things are coming!

“Okay,” said Josh, swallowing the last bite of his burrito, and turning to face Tyler. “Verdict?”

Tyler fluttered his eyes closed in mock concentration, chewing slowly. “It’s like… okay. I think that I’m actually a fan of the Hot Frito part...” he said, pausing for effect. “But like, the texture of the beef is throwing me off. Overall like six-point-five out of ten.” 

“Wow,” proclaimed Josh. “You heard it here, TB fans. Only six-point-five on the newest menu item, according to junk-food critic extraordinaire, Tyler Joseph.” He balled up his wrappers, trying to drop them into the dumpster forty feet below, but falling just shy of his target. “Ah, crap,” he added, as Tyler sniggered. “I’ll get it on the way down.” 

Once again, Tyler had dragged Josh onto the roof of the Shop n’ Save for an afternoon of junk food and procrastination before Josh had rehearsal. Their excuse for this particular Taco Bell run was the recent debut of the Beefy Hot Burrito, of which they had each just finished two apiece. Of course, Josh would’ve climbed up just for the prospect of conversation and Tyler’s company, but he wasn’t about to admit that out loud. Still, their afternoons up here, away from the rest of the world, were some of his favorites. They’d stay on the roof for hours on some days, sometimes talking, other times not. Once in awhile, Tyler would bring one of the little leather notebooks that Josh had become accustomed to, and he would lie on his back, humming to himself and writing lyrics while Josh played fruit ninja on Tyler’s phone.

Today, however, they’d spent the first fifteen minutes after they’d climbed up here staging a very in-depth taste test of the new burrito, after Tyler had insisted all day that the innovative genius of beef and Fritos together in one tortilla was not a joking matter. 

“Tyyr obrt jossf,” he slurred, still chewing.

“I’m gonna need that again man,” Josh laughed. 

Tyler swallowed the last of his burrito and cleared his throat. “Sorry. Tyler _Robert Joseph._ That’s my middle name. It’s just definitely a more dramatic food critic title.” 

Josh ducked his head, chuckling, and nodded in agreement. 

“Alright, fair enough. I'll keep that in mind when I, uh, write up the newspaper review.” 

Tyler smiled through a laugh, pursing his lips and letting a long breath out of his nose. A quiet peace settled in as Josh watched Tyler stare out over the strip of stores, taking in the slice of Columbus that was spread out like a map below them. He wasn’t lost in thought, or lost at all. He was just… looking. 

It was Josh’s favorite version of him, this one right here. If you weren’t paying close attention, you might make the mistake of thinking that there were only two sides to Tyler - the laughing, friendly, outgoing one, and the deep, sad, pensive one. But Josh _was_ paying attention, and he knew that there were at least a hundred more. 

There was Tyler Robert Joseph, church goer and faithful son and brother. There was stage-Tyler, all reckless abandon, and sweat, and spasming muscles. There was morning Tyler, reserved but affectionate, and late-night-Tyler, quiet and angry and dangerous, always delicately toeing the line of oblivion. 

He knew that somewhere in a remote corner of reality, there was a whispering, trembling Tyler, who Josh would probably never be allowed to see.

But this, right here on the roof of the grocery store, seemed to Josh like one of those rare and fleeting moments when Tyler wasn't trying to be any of those people. This boy, chewing his lip and breathing through his nose as he stared at the cars below them was the most unadulterated version of his friend, and Josh still couldn't quite believe that he had the privilege to witness it.

Nevertheless, when all was said and done, Josh couldn't deny that the same was probably true for himself. Somehow, when he was with Tyler, the pressure to be that nice, funny friend just sort of dissipated. When he was around other guys, even ones he liked spending time with, there was always an underlying expectation for him to walk, talk, and generally be a certain way. But with Tyler, he could let his guard down and just _live._ He wasn't sure he'd ever had a friend who was so easy to just… be around. 

It was the kind of simple and satisfying coexistence that siblings had, Josh thought - although his feelings for Tyler were far from brotherly. But that, too, was getting easier. Though he often still caught himself watching Tyler’s lips as he spoke or itching to run his fingers through Tyler’s hair, he would push those thoughts to the back of his mind. And then, before he went to sleep each night, he would take those moments, along with the constant dull burn in his chest that tended to build up over the course of a day with Tyler, and file them into a compartment in the back of his mind, under the categories of _what if,_ and _maybe someday._

“What’cha thinkin' about?” asked Tyler, swinging his legs over the ledge.

“Hmm?” said Josh. “Oh.” He’d been looking at Tyler’s neck. _Jesus, Josh,_ he chided internally. Maybe he wasn’t as good at this as he thought. 

Tyler chuckled. “Okay, space-face. Anyway, I was saying that Mark wants to shoot a music video with us. Like an actual official music video. But I don't really feel like I have a good song for one yet.” 

“Mmm,” Josh said again, flipping mentally through all the twenty one pilots songs he knew. “Air Catcher?” He suggested, finally.

Tyler screwed up his face. “Nah. It has to be something that's more representative of our overall sound. If we even have an overall sound,” he added, laughing. “But I feel like I kinda tried the rock-guitar thing on that one and then never did it again.” 

Josh nodded silently.

“Plus,” Tyler went on, “I kind of want it to be a newer song. Like ‘Ode to Sleep’ would be rad, but I can't possibly see how a cohesive video could be made out of that.” 

“Yeah, but Mark could make it work,” Josh pointed out, and Tyler laughed in agreement. Josh had only met Mark a handful of times, but he was hilarious. He was one of the few people that Josh didn't mind “sharing” Tyler with.

Josh watched Tyler take a long sip of one of the red bulls they’d brought up. “I feel like the song for our perfect first music video hasn't been written yet,” he went on. “Like, I'm proud of what I've put out there, and honestly ‘Ode to Sleep’ is one of my favorite things to play, but I feel like I have that one song that I want everyone to know us for, like… right at the tip of my tongue. I just don't know what it is yet.” 

He wished Tyler wouldn't make it so easy to pretend that ‘us’ meant the two of them.

“I'll be excited to find out,” Josh said, and Tyler grinned. 

“Same.” 

Eventually, it was time to climb down. Josh tried not to think about the fact that he would literally rather spend the night on the roof of the grocery store than go to band practice right now. Ever since he got home from tour, House of Heroes seemed to have lost all of its appeal. Aside from the fact that he got to play his drums, it felt like just as much of a side-job as his job at Guitar Center did: just a way to get by until he could make the kind of music he wanted to make. 

“Excited for a Tim-filled evening?” Tyler said, as if reading his mind. Josh tried to hide a smile. He always took a kind of sick pleasure in Tyler’s distaste for the lead singer, but then felt bad about it afterwards. 

“It’s not so bad,” he lied, not even believing himself. 

Tyler clearly didn’t either, raising his eyebrows in skepticism, but not saying anything on the subject. They had reached their respective cars by now, and Josh felt the twinge of amusement that always came from seeing his worn, oversized pick-up next to Tyler’s old, brown sedan. 

Josh opened his driver’s side door and climbed in, but Tyler reappeared and leaned on it before he could pull it shut. 

“That actually reminds me, though,” Tyler began. “We added another Newport show at the end of next month, right after Thanksgiving. You in?” 

“For sure,” Josh said. He knew he’d have to check his own band’s schedule first, and so did Tyler, but it felt good to indulge in the fantasy that of course, yes, he’d _always_ be there. “But, uh, not side stage, if that’s okay?” he added. “I was thinking it’d be cool to bring my sister. She still hasn’t seen you guys and she’s been talking my ear off about it for like a month. That cool?” 

Tyler grinned and shook his head back and forth, looking down. “Man, Josh Dun, always bringing in a crowd. What would we do without our number one fan?” They laughed as if it was a joke, even though they both knew that it wasn't. Josh might not be screaming in the front row every night, but he would do absolutely anything for this band. Especially for the lead singer. Especially if “doing anything” came in the form of him being the drummer. 

“Crash and burn, probably,” Josh said with a totally straight face. 

Tyler smiled one of his huge genuine smiles, and Josh had to will his heart to stay in his chest. 

“See ya man,” said Tyler, moving to close the car door. 

“See ya, Ty.”

 

\--------

 

At rehearsal, Tim told Josh that he was playing too loud. 

There were some shows, even some rehearsals, when Josh took out all his pent up energy and emotion on his drums, willing away his nerves or his anger by playing harder, faster, louder. But Josh hadn’t thought that he was doing that today, not even a little. At least, not until Tim was turning around from the microphone during their third or fourth failed run of the same song, giving him a _look,_ and telling him that he “wasn’t the only person in the band so if he could try not to drown out everyone else that would probably be best.”

Josh had laughed it off, like everyone else in the room, but his stomach churned uncomfortably. He played quieter. 

He was basically drumming on autopilot at this point, the beats to these songs so ingrained in his mind that he could do them in his sleep. Josh wondered when he had let himself become so immune to the excitement of drumming in this band, which so few months ago had felt like a dream come true. He realized without much surprise that it was somewhere around the time he’d met Tyler. In fact, he could probably even pinpoint it back to that moment when he was watching Chris from the pit at that first show in May, mentally running through everything he would do differently if he were on the drums. He wished it were someone else, someone easier to demonize and envy, and not Chris, who had the one job that he so desperately wanted. 

“Josh.” Tim’s voice was dripping with bile, and he realized that he must have slipped back into his over-zealous and overly loud drumming. “This is not twenty-one fucking pilots.” 

Josh gripped his drumsticks harder and felt his face flush, but again, kept his mouth pressed firmly shut. He wasn’t going to give Tim the satisfaction of getting angry. 

“Dude, chill the fuck out,” came Colin’s voice from the couch. “He wasn’t even playing that loud.” 

Colin, the drummer who Josh had replaced, had inexplicably started hanging around at rehearsals lately, evidently at Tim’s invitation. It had seemed very off putting at first, and Eric had made a joke about how he was going to “Yoko the band into nonexistence,” but Colin mostly just sat around drinking a beer from Tim’s fridge and scrolling through his phone while they played. Josh didn’t mind. Colin was actually an okay guy, and his presence seemed to mellow Tim out a little sometimes. 

Sometimes. 

“He was playing plenty loudly, actually,” Tim retorted. “And he was in another universe over there. So, if you have better places to be, Joshua, it’s fine. I don’t mind. We have another drummer on standby anyway,” he laughed icily, gesturing to Colin. 

The whole room went quiet. Everyone looked pointedly at somewhere other than Colin or Josh. Josh looked at his snare drum. 

“Smoke break,” Colin announced, slapping his hands against his thighs, and the tension dissipated slightly as he hopped to his feet. 

To Josh’s surprise, Colin grabbed him by the arm as he walked past, and Josh let himself be led outside onto the front porch of Tim’s house. 

“Uh,” Josh said, as as Colin held a pack of cigarettes out to him. “I'm not - I don't smoke.”

“Bullshit, I've seen you,” said Colin immediately, and Josh sighed. He wasn't wrong. 

He took a cigarette from the pack. It had been awhile, but he needed it right now. Colin lit it for him, and he felt nauseous almost as soon as he took the first drag, but he ignored the feeling.

“Tim’s not a bad guy,” Colin said out of nowhere, though he looked unconvinced by his own words. Josh wondered why everyone, including himself, seemed to keep feeling the need to say that. 

“Yeah, I'm - I know,” he replied. 

They smoked in silence for several minutes, shivering slightly in the October half-dusk. The cigarette was both familiar and unpleasant, and Josh was starting to remember why he’d stopped. 

Once again, Colin was the one to break the silence.

“He's probably jealous, you know. Tim.” 

Josh raised an eyebrow. “Of who?” 

Colin blew out a cloud of smoke, still gazing straight ahead and away from Josh. 

“You, maybe,” he murmured. “Or that pilots band.”

Josh furrowed his eyebrows. He could see Tim being jealous of twenty one pilots, but of _him_?

“That doesn't make sense,” Josh finally said. 

Colin shook his head, looking down. “He knows you'd rather be there, I guess, and he doesn't like it.”

“I don't -” 

“C’mon, man,” Colin cut him off. “You’re honestly telling me you wouldn't jump at the fucking chance?” 

Josh didn't say anything. 

“We should go back in,” Colin said finally, flicking his butt off the porch. Josh followed suit and made his way back into the basement, where the remaining band members were all gathered on the couch, laughing animatedly at something on Eric’s phone.

“He's insane,” someone said, pointing at the screen and grinning, and Tim cackled.

“Right? He looks like he's having a seizure or a bad trip or something.” 

Josh suddenly got a very _very_ bad feeling about what they might be watching.

Tim seemed to notice that they had returned, and he grabbed the phone out of Eric’s hands, turning the screen so that it faced Josh. 

He felt his heart sink into his stomach. It was a YouTube video of Tyler, onstage at the Newport back before Josh even knew him. He was in the middle of a song that Josh recognized immediately as “Johnny Boy.” The only unusual thing about it - and what he assumed the others had been laughing about - was that Tyler was lying on his back on the piano shell, caught in one of his moments of sheer, passionate intensity, stamping his feet rhythmically against the keyboard’s wooden frame as he sang the bridge. 

“Hey Josh,” Tim drawled. “We were all just admiring your _boyfriend’s_ uh… _enthusiasm._ ”

He didn't even remember lunging at Tim until he felt Colin throw his arms tightly around his torso, holding him back as he yelled at both of them to “cut it the fuck out!” 

“What?” Tim challenged hotly, though he was clearly enjoying this. “Did I hit a nerve?”

“Fuck you,” Josh spat, still wriggling in Colin’s grasp. He didn't remember the last time he'd ever let himself get this angry. Maybe never. “Fucking _fuck you,_ Tim.” 

“Any particular reason you’re being so defensive?” Tim countered, gleaming eyes affixed on Josh. “Does little rapper boy know that you're a-” 

_“Tim!”_ Colin practically yelled, at the same time as Eric yelled _“Woah!”_

There was a brief moment of angry silence before Josh leveled his voice the best he could, staring piercingly at Tim as he spoke. 

“You will never understand what he is to me,” he growled through his teeth, so quietly that he almost scared himself. “You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, so shut the fuck up.” 

And then he was yanking himself free from Colin and storming out of the house, without even bothering to pack up his drums. As soon as he made it to the pickup, he turned up the stereo as loud as it would go, and didn't take his foot off the gas until he reached his driveway. 

 

\--------

 

It happened the next day. 

It was Thursday, meaning that Josh had a five hour closing shift at Guitar Center. He'd just managed to tear himself off his bed and was heading into the kitchen to eat some cereal for whatever meal one ate at 4:00pm, but as he vaulted down the stairs and towards the first floor, his phone began buzzing, and the name Eric lit up his screen. 

Oh. It was _this_ call. He’d been prepared for this call for a long time, even before the blow-up yesterday. He plopped down on the bottom step, and slid his phone to answer.

“Hey.”

“Josh, my man!” Eric replied, his tone far too genial, confirming Josh’s suspicions about what was coming. “How’re you holding up?”

“Fine,” Josh huffed, running his thumb back and forth over a rip in his jeans, and hoping Eric would just get to the point so he could make his cereal. 

“Alright, well, I guess I should just come out and say this,” said Eric. “Colin’s decided he’s ready to hop back on drums, at least for now. So it looks like he’s going to be taking over. I'm sorry, man.”

Josh leaned against the banister and sucked in a breath. “Okay,” he said. There was something sickeningly funny about the fact that Tim couldn't even be bothered to kick him out himself. 

“Okay?” repeated Eric. “That’s it?” 

“Yeah man, I mean, I kinda figured” He rubbed his hand over his forehead. He was going to have to ask Chris for more shifts now. 

“Josh,” said the voice on the line. “You’re a fantastic drummer. You’re gonna find another project, kay? I’m sorry this one didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, well, I might already have another project,” Josh snapped, the words coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. That was a total lie. 

“Really?” said Eric, and Josh resented the disbelief in his tone. 

“It’s not official yet or anything, but I know a guy who might need a new drummer soon,” Josh lied. “Really cool group. You’d hate them. Anyway man, don’t worry about it. Tell Tim I’ll pick up my drums tomorrow. Good luck with the band.”

He hung up. 

Josh thought that a weight would have been lifted off his chest after he finally heard the words from Eric’s mouth, but if anything, his entire body felt heavier. 

It felt like both liberation and defeat, and the liberation part of it didn’t feel as good as he’d been expecting. It felt a lot like moving backwards, away from the kind of dreams he allowed himself to have when he was talking to Tyler. He was realizing that being in House of Heroes had sort of justified those hopes for the future, or at least grounded them in some kind of reality, even if it hadn’t been perfect. Now he was just another step further away from his stupid fantasies of playing sold-out crowds at the Newport. Not only was he not in twenty one pilots, like he had just insinuated on the phone, but now he wasn’t in House of Heroes. He wasn’t in a band at all. He was a lone drummer who worked at a music store. 

He snapped up his head at the sound of his phone vibrating, thinking for the tiniest moment that Eric was calling him back to…what, change his mind? Apologize?

It was Tyler. 

**Tyjo:** .::are you working::.

 **Josh:** in an hour

 **Josh:** what the heck is this …:::...

It took a few moments before Tyler replied

 **Tyjo:** ..:idøn’tknøw:..

 **Tyjo:** i’m hungry. 

Josh smiled in spite of himself. He was so… him. Josh sent another text without really thinking through the logistics. He needed a distraction. 

**Josh:** come to work w me

 **Tyjo:** ? am i allowed

 **Josh:** prolly not but it’s just me and chris, plus you can pretend to be an interested customer and serenade people, idk

Josh stood up and headed for his room, realizing he'd need to change quickly and get on the road if he was going to get Tyler on the way, especially since he knew Tyler would probably want to get Taco Bell. 

He hoped Chris would be cool with this. He just genuinely couldn't face it, otherwise. Not today. His phone buzzed one more time, and he opened Tyler’s message.

 **Tyjo:** prolly

 **Josh:** prolly

He smiled.

 

\--------

 

Tyler loved hanging around Guitar Center. 

By 9:00, the customers had essentially tapered off, and he, Chris, and Josh were gathered inside the ring of counters that formed the check-out station in the center of the store. To his delight, he’d managed to get his hands on a wheely-chair, and kept tilting back just far enough for Chris to eye him with disapproval, but never enough to fall over. He’d had to keep to himself through the late afternoon, screwing around on Josh’s DS as his friends hurried around helping customers, but now it was just the three of them, lounging against the counters as Chris unpacked a shipment of guitar strings. 

“What… about… crowd surfing?” Tyler suggested, swiveling in his chair to face Chris. They were in the middle of a long debate about how they could make twenty one pilots shows more interesting for their longtime fans. 

“What, you or me?” Chris asked. “Because I’m pretty sure I would just sink like a rock, or crush everyone in the vicinity.” 

“Well,” Tyler quipped, “I meant me, but we could always just stick your drums on a platform and have them hold it up. Then you’d be drum surfing.” 

“Du-ude,” piped up Josh from his perch on one of the counters. “That would actually be _sick._ ” 

Tyler laughed. “Or,” he went on, “we could just throw Josh into the crowd. He’s like ninety pounds or something.”

Josh pouted and scrunched up his nose. 

“Aw, sorry Josh,” Tyler hummed. “I’m kidding. You’re big and tough and muscly.” He could see Chris rolling his eyes without even turning around to look. 

The bell above the door rang, signaling the entrance of a customer, and Josh rushed off to help him. Tyler didn’t get a good look, but it seemed to be a guy in his thirties, and after a quick exchange, Josh led him into the guitar room, closing the door behind them. 

“He’s such a stellar employee,” joked Tyler, but he was half serious. 

“And what does that make me?” Chris asked. 

Tyler considered. “A stellar supervisor.” They both snorted.

“Actually,” Chris laughed, slicing open another box of strings. “He is really good at helping people. But he’s, like, _extra_ good if they’re cute. It’s fucking funny. I remember back when he first started here, there was this one super attractive dude who kept coming back in to look at kits, and Josh was practically falling over himself trying to get to him first to help him.” Chris grinned and shook his head. “But you know how shy he is about that stuff.” 

Tyler blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Something seemed to shift in Chris’s face, and he frowned at Tyler. 

“Dude,” said Chris, suddenly serious. “You know Josh is - I mean, you know that, uh, that he likes guys, right?” 

It was like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He tilted his chair forward so that all four wheels rested on the ground.

“No,” Tyler said slowly, shaking his head. It wasn’t an answer, it was a statement. His head felt like cotton. “No, that’s not right. I would know that.” Josh was his best friend. He would know that about him. 

Chris’s face was a cross between confusion, compassion, and trepidation. “I mean, back when I met him he said that he only tells his close friends, so I guess I thought…” he tapered off. “Sorry, man, I just feel like if he hasn't told you, he must think that you wouldn't take it very well.” 

Tyler’s eyes widened. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he croaked, trying and failing to sound defiant. 

Chris shrugged. “I mean - dude, Tyler, _I_ know you're not some kind of bigoted asshole, but you do have a history of being pretty serious about like… _God’s word_ and all that stuff - not that that’s a bad thing,” he added quickly, misinterpreting Tyler’s look of horror. “But he probably thought you were gonna start waving a bible at him or something.” 

Tyler sat stock still. All the organs in his body suddenly felt heavy and out of place. Everything about the last six months was rearranging itself in his mind, and nothing made sense. 

“I would never do that,” Tyler whispered, more to himself than to Chris. 

“I know, man,” Chris said. “But, I mean, look… it’s really not even that big of a deal, is it?” 

“Of course it’s not a big deal,” Tyler snapped, ignoring the deeply buried part of his brain screaming at him that _it was, it was, it was…_

“What’s not a big deal?” came an innocent voice from behind them, and Tyler heard Chris choke. Josh was standing on the opposite side of the counter, and from the look of genuine confusion and curiosity on his face, Tyler knew he couldn’t have been standing there long. 

Neither he nor Chris spoke. Tyler realized that he was frozen in his seat, staring right back at Josh, and that he probably looked exactly as nauseous as he felt. He willed the color back into his cheeks, willed himself to look calm and normal, but the damage was clearly done. 

Josh turned his head very slowly to look at Chris, whose eyes had practically doubled in size. 

“Josh, man, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I, uh… I thought he knew.” 

A few moments passed in which Josh was just looking at Chris blankly, and for a tiny, blissful second, Tyler thought that maybe he was going to shrug or brush it off, and things were going to be fine. 

And then Josh was turning on his heel and running across the store, throwing open the door, and disappearing. Tyler cast one more panicked, wide-eyed glance at Chris before leaping up to follow him. 

“Tyler, don’t!” he heard Chris yelling, but he ignored him, bursting out of Guitar Center and into the mostly empty parking lot. 

He couldn’t see Josh at first, and for a moment he wondered if he had already made it into his car, but then Tyler spotted a dark shape huddled over in the grassy median at the center of the lot. He sprinted forward, and when he drew close enough to the curb, he could see that Josh was doubled over and throwing up violently into a cluster of bushes. 

Tyler moved to him without thinking, instinctively trying to lay a soothing hand on Josh’s back as he heaved again, but Josh visibly flinched, and he retracted his hand as if burned. 

“Don’t touch me right now, Tyler,” Josh panted quietly, avoiding his eyes, and Tyler felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. This wasn’t supposed to be happening like this. Or at all. 

They stood there like that for what felt like forever, Josh looking anywhere but at him, and Tyler mentally running through every iteration of what he could possibly say to make this better, but coming up blank every time. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. 

“Josh?” 

He heard Josh make a huffing sound in reply. 

“Josh, it doesn't matter,” he said very quietly.

“It matters.”

“Not to me it doesn't.”

He thought he heard Josh laugh humorlessly. “I know.” 

Tyler wondered if he was supposed to know what that meant. He thought of his Mother’s question, so many months ago. _Who is Josh to you?_

“You’re my best friend,” said Tyler out loud, answering both his mother’s question, and what felt like several other ones that hadn’t been asked. He wanted to add _“you could have told me,”_ but he couldn’t bring himself to be so selfish. 

Josh finally straightened up, looking Tyler in the eye for the first time since he’d ran out of the store. Tyler opened his mouth to say something else, but Josh spoke first. 

“They kicked me out of House of Heroes,” he said, emotionless. 

It was so far afield of anything Tyler was expecting Josh to say, that he had to replay the words once or twice in his head before they fully registered. 

“Fuck,” he finally said. 

Josh chuckled dryly. “Fuck,” he repeated. 

Tyler thought of his own drummer, standing not forty feet away from them back in the store, and he suddenly wished that he were a lesser person - the kind of person who would have kicked Chris out right then and there to make room for Josh. But the same kind of fierce loyalty that made him want to do it for the sake of one friend also prevented him from doing so for the sake of another. 

“What happened?” Tyler asked, because there was nothing else to ask. 

A look of conflict crossed Josh’s face, and Tyler wondered if he was deciding how much of the truth to tell him. 

Josh sighed. “Colin’s coming back,” he said, simply. Tyler decided that that was good enough for him.

Josh had looked away again, and though his expression remained steely when he turned back around, Tyler could see that there were tears in his eyes. 

“Which part are you crying about?” Tyler asked quietly.

Josh bit his lip, hard.. “Both parts.” 

Tyler reminded himself that crying was supposed to be familiar territory, and it was - it was always so much better, so much easier and saner than _quiet,_ but this crying, _Josh_ crying, was more than he knew what to do with. The only thing in the universe that he wanted or knew how to do was to put his arms around Josh until the tears stopped, but he wasn’t allowed, he wasn’t allowed…

He did it anyway. 

Immediately, he was glad that he had. The second they were touching, Tyler knew with inexplicable but absolute certainty that things were going to be fine, and that all of this would become just another one of those things they knew about each other. Josh hugged him back with so much force that it almost hurt, but it was the last thing on his mind. 

“I’m here,” he said over Josh’s shoulder.

“I know.” 

“You know I wouldn’t - that I’m not going anywhere, right?”

“I know.” 

“Josh-”

“Tyler,” he said. “I know.” 

The exhaustion of the last twenty minutes was finally hitting both of them, and Tyler felt like he was both being held up by Josh’s frame, and simultaneously holding it up. He wasn’t sure he’d ever hugged someone for this long before, but he was very sure that he didn’t care. He was suddenly struck with the overwhelming triviality of something like being gay, or bi, or whatever Josh was, on the grand overarching list of Things About Josh Dun. The idea that anyone could let something like that overshadow things like Josh’s taste in music, or his perfect hair, or even his Taco Bell order, suddenly felt comical to him. 

“What are you laughing about?” Josh said, and Tyler could hear the smile in his voice, even when his face was over Tyler’s shoulder. 

“Nothing,” he hummed, and then, “We should go back inside.”

“Prolly.”

“Prolly.” 

Neither one of them moved from each other’s arms. Chris could wait, Tyler decided. 

Josh’s chest was warm against his, and everything could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I extend my deepest apologies to the real life Tim Skipper.
> 
> Also, PSA: don’t come out for people. 
> 
> Maybe leave me some feedback about whether all the time skipping is working for you? I mean could write a chapter for every month but then they literally wouldn't get together until chapter 16 and I don't think anyone wants to wait that long including me lol. I hope it's not too disjointed this way!!


	7. Time is Slowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I honestly can't express how sorry I am for being so late with this chapter. I had to study for a huge exam, and there was an unexpected family emergency over the weekend. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me. I hope this chapter isn't too much of a letdown after a week and a half. *sinks into the ground*

As November drew to a close and the next Newport show grew nearer, the weather in Ohio also began to grow cold. Josh had seized the opportunity, with the help of Tyler, to string Christmas decorations from every imaginable surface of his new apartment, much to the chagrin of his new roommates, who weren’t quite as Christmas-crazy as Josh was. To be fair, not many people were; but Tyler had seemed to find his childlike giddiness endearing, even going so far, on one sleepless night, as to construct a lego-man nativity scene on Josh’s dresser, which took up far too much space to justify him leaving it there, but which he couldn’t bring himself to take down. 

The date of the Newport show was also the night before Tyler’s birthday. Josh had been charged with the task of “stalling him after the show so that everyone could go home and set up for his surprise party.” He doubted very much whether Tyler would remain entirely in the dark about their plans - he wasn't an idiot, and Mark and Nick weren’t the stealthiest of people when it came to this sort of thing - but Josh agreed to do his part.

He had picked up his sister Ashley from work at around seven, leaving them with just enough time to sneak into the back of the pit before the first act started playing. Though he’d been to countless numbers of Tyler’s shows since they’d met, something about being in this particular venue and seeing this particular band kept sending him back to that first night in May, when he’d fallen in love with twenty one pilots. It felt strange to be comfortably lurking at the back of the crowd this time, when he’d been so eager to be in the front row before. But he already saw Tyler up-close practically every day now, so he was glad to be able to hang back a little and take in the show from a slight distance. 

Josh knew these songs backwards and forwards at this point, but watching someone as important to him as his sister experiencing this for the first time made them feel new to him as well, in a way. Still, there were certain moments that were undeniably linked in Josh’s mind to the first time that he’d seen Tyler perform. Once again, they had started with “Ode to Sleep,” and Josh felt a giddy satisfaction at the knowledge that he'd been there the very first time that it had been played, back before it even had a name. He cheered louder than anyone else around him as the song faded out and Tyler launched into “Slowtown.” 

Once again, Josh found himself with his eyes glued on Tyler the whole time, paying absolutely no attention to Chris. And once again, he felt only very slightly guilty. He wasn't about to waste this opportunity, with the dim lighting and the distance making him invisible to Tyler. Here, at the back of the crowd, he could let himself stare. 

He felt Ashley nudge his shoulder, and when he turned to look at her, her eyes were glittering. 

“You totally love him,” she said, without a hint of mockery, or even a hint of inquiry. It was an observation, and not a question. 

Josh practically choked, before pulling himself together enough to scoff and shake his head. 

“Don’t be dumb,” he replied, trying to keep his face somewhere between neutral and casually skeptical, even as Ashley’s eyes bored into him. 

But she did not back down, and eventually his composure slipped. He felt the beginnings of a blush creep onto his cheeks as the corners of his lips turned up. Even now, after months of convincing himself that it was impossible, the idea of a _having a crush_ on Tyler still gave Josh butterflies. And yet, that was not what Ashley was accusing him of; they both seemed to understand that whatever this was, it existed on an entirely separate plane of affection from something as petty and undignified as a crush. 

“Fine” he finally said, not meeting his sister’s eyes. There was no point in denying it now. “But we’re friends. I mean it,” he stressed, when she raised an eyebrow. “He’s completely straight, so don’t go getting any ideas.” The words were strangely familiar in his mouth, and he suddenly remembered that Chris had said the exact same thing to him on the night when he’d first met Tyler. 

Ashley cocked her head to the side, looking frustrated. “He’s told you that he’s straight? Like, outright?” she demanded. 

Josh considered for a minute. “I mean… no,” he finally had to admit, and Ashley looked like she was about to say something else, but he cut her off. “It’s not even worth it, Ash. He would have - I mean - there are a million different times he could have said otherwise, and he hasn’t. So just - trust me. Plus,” he added, “his family is really religious and traditional and shit.” 

He heard his sister make a frustrated noise. “So?” she objected. “Ours is too! But Mom has literally been captain of the gay-train ever since you told her, and even Dad is completely chill about it now.” 

Josh shrugged noncommittally, trying to get her to drop the subject. It was easier to ignore the dull burn of his non-platonic feelings if he lived under the assumption that Tyler would never, ever see him that way. But as soon as someone started to question that reality, as soon his certainty was the slightest bit fractured, the dormant beast in his chest would raise its head and sniff the air hopefully. Sometimes it was easy to shove it back down. Other times it wasn't.

In any case, whatever else Ashley was about to say was soon drowned out by raucous applause around them. The band had finished another song without Josh even realizing. 

“Alright, we’re going to change it up a little,” came Tyler’s voice from the stage. “Although I guess, uh, ideally, you could say that after every song.” he paused. “That’s part of the point, or something. Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about.” 

Josh saw him tilt his head downward and smile a little at his own awkwardness, before ditching his keytar and sitting down at the piano to begin the next song.

The emotional impact of the first few chords hit Josh before he even realized which song Tyler was playing. As soon as he put the two things together, his heart was thudding in his throat and tears were springing to his eyes. Tyler hadn’t even started _singing_ yet, and Josh was already about to cry. 

He felt Ashley squeeze gently above his elbow. “Josh, what is it?” she said softly. 

“Nothing,” he murmured quickly, blinking away his tears before she could see, although he suspected that she already had. “It’s just, Ty - um, Tyler, he hasn’t played this since… uh.” He broke off. “It’s just been awhile since they’ve done this one, is all.” 

Up onstage Tyler had his eyes closed, and Josh saw him tilt his head skyward before starting the first verse. 

_I want to fall inside your ghost,_  
_And fill up every hole inside my mind…_

He felt Ashley suddenly take his hand, and it was only then that he realized he was shaking a little. She held onto him, giving him a lifeline, and squeezing gently when he started to bite his lip during the rap verse.

They stayed like that until the song was over, though his sister seemed to be watching him more than she was watching the band. Tyler sat quietly with his face in his hands for a minute after the last sounds faded out, and Josh heard two teenagers in front of him holding a hushed conversation. 

“Is he okay?” 

“Yeah, he gets emotional. Does that kinda stuff. It’s part of the whole thing.” 

But then Tyler was taking the microphone in his hand, signaling Nick to wait before queueing up the next song on the laptop. 

“Um, I probably should have said this before the song, but, uh…” Josh watched him swallow, hard, as he rushed to finish his thought all in one breath. “We haven’t done that last one for awhile, but it means a lot to me…” 

He stared straight at Josh then, but went on without missing a beat.

“...and it means a lot to some people I really care about, so thank you for letting me do that. And generally, just…” he paused. “ _Thank you._ Alright. Let’s go on.” 

Josh could see a few people further up turning and craning their heads to see who Tyler might have been speaking to, but they gave up quickly. Nevertheless, he knew that Ashley had followed Tyler’s gaze right back to their target, and he could still feel her eyes practically burning a hole into the side of his head.

“Are you, like… a hundred percent sure that he knows you’re just friends?” she whispered, and he shoved her gently. 

“Stoppp,” he groaned, but he hugged an arm around her as she giggled. Nevertheless, the joking skepticism in her voice had wormed its way into Josh’s chest, causing the dormant beast to stir once again. But this wasn’t the time. They still had Car Radio and Trees to get through, and then however many hours of Tyler’s party, and Josh couldn’t afford to stay vulnerable. 

Once again, he willed it back to sleep. 

 

\--------

 

The show was over, and as usual, Tyler had found himself alone in the small, shared dressing room that the Newport provided for himself and his bandmates. Nick and Chris had taken off suspiciously quickly after the show, packing up in record time and muttering something about a family obligation, but Tyler knew that they were probably up to something related to his birthday. 

He made his way around the room, collecting his phone charger, his water, his discarded hoodie, and stuffing them into his gig bag. Even with the muffled noise of the venue in the background, a quiet solitude hung over the dressing room, allowing his mind to wander.

The show had gone well, with no major catastrophes, and lots of little things that had made him smile. It had gotten to the point where the fans could practically tell the story of how his car radio got stolen by themselves, and he was so touched by their dedication that he hadn’t even been annoyed when some guy screamed “we know!” as Tyler had tried to tell the story. 

Nevertheless - as he was finding more and more over the last month or two of shows - Tyler was itching to show the fans something new. It's not that the music wasn't still alive and fresh for them, because it was, but he knew that it was time to show them some of the things he'd been working on. And yet, nothing felt ready. He was on the brink of something good, he knew it, but it was like the song was stuck in his throat, unwilling to come out. 

A knock on the doorframe interrupted his thoughts; when he turned around to see who was there, Tyler was flooded with memories from so many months ago, when Josh had first stood in the doorway of this room, nervously introducing himself. He felt a sudden rush of affection for his friend. Thank God they’d actually bothered to hang out after that night. 

“Sick show,” Josh said, grinning. “The crowd went nuts when you guys did that drumming thing at the end of Trees.” 

“Yeah? You think?” Tyler asked genuinely, ever insecure, even though he objectively knew that Josh was right. 

“For sure,” replied Josh, with another eye-crinkling smile, before his gaze landed on a side table at the far end of the room, lighting up. “Dude, whose oreos?” 

Tyler rolled his eyes. “They were Chris’s, but you can have them, you dork” he said. 

Warmth pulsed in his chest as he watched Josh make himself at home, flopping down on the couch with a mouthful of cookies. 

“So are we allowed to go home yet?” Tyler asked, zipping the last of his belongings into his backpack. “Or are they still setting up the party?” 

Josh practically choked on his oreos, before shooting Tyler an exasperated look. 

“How do you even…” Josh began, but Tyler rolled his eyes, laughing. 

“M’not living under a rock, man,” he laughed. “You guys keep suddenly going quiet when I walk in the room, so it’s either a party, or someone is dying of cancer and I’m the last to know. Plus,” he added, when Josh shot him a look. “Michael left the receipt for the keg on the kitchen counter.” 

Josh furrowed his eyebrows. “Told him not to get that,” he said. “He should know you don’t really drink.” 

Tyler shrugged. “Eh. S’fine. It’s for everyone else. Plus, maybe I’ll surprise everyone and get super hammered,” he smirked, although they both knew that he wouldn’t. 

He hoisted his backpack onto his back, but didn’t make a move for the door. Once again, he was struck with the familiarity of all of this - Josh leaning against the dressing room wall, both of them knowing it was time to leave, but wanting to stay where they were, because outside the door was the night, and the future, and other people. 

“This is where we met,” he finally said, feeling his face break into a smile in spite of himself. 

Josh’s grin was equally big. “Yeah,” he said. 

Tyler felt like he was supposed to say something else, but he didn’t know what. But then Josh was ducking his head and breathing out a laugh. 

“What? What?” Tyler demanded, giggling too. 

Josh’s shoulders were shaking gently with laughter now. “Nothing. Just -” he looked up, grinning. “Josh the Drummer.” 

Tyler snorted. “Josh the Drummer.” 

They stood there for a few more moments as their laughter died out, before Josh started absentmindedly picking at the chipped paint of the door frame. 

“Come on, drummer boy,” Tyler said, walking past him and through the door. “Take me to my party.” 

 

\--------

 

As soon as they pulled up in front of the rental house, Tyler could see that this get-together was going to be a lot bigger than he had expected. There were cars parked semi-stealthy throughout the surrounding neighborhood, and he could see people milling around in the living room and kitchen through the windows to the first floor. 

“Do we even know this many people?” Tyler wondered aloud, and Josh winced. 

“It’s possible that, uh…” 

Tyler glared at him suspiciously. “What?” 

Josh bit his lip. “Okay, well, Nick was talking before the show about maybe trying to invite some people from the audience, but I didn’t think he’d actually -” 

Tyler slammed his head back against the seat, groaning dramatically. He’d mentally prepared himself to socialize with his friends all night, but now he was going to have to deal with a bunch of _fans_? He loved and appreciated the people who came to their shows, but it’s not who he wanted to spend his birthday with. He could already feel himself getting exhausted. 

“Nick doesn’t even _live here_ anymore, and he’s inviting half the crowd over?” Tyler grumbled. 

Josh raised his eyebrows hopefully. “Maybe we can just sneak upstairs?” 

“You don’t think they’d notice that I was missing from my own party?” Tyler countered, and Josh shrugged in acknowledgment. 

“We could drive to Burger King and wait the whole thing out?” Josh joked again, but Tyler just groaned and unbuckled his seatbelt. 

“Let’s just get it over with,” he huffed, hauling himself out of the truck.

As it turned out, the “fans” ended up being a bunch of Nick’s college friends who had come to the show, most of whom Tyler already knew. Nevertheless, it quickly became apparent that he and Josh were some of the only sober people present, although even Josh had downed a couple beers when they first arrived. But after the second or third rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday,” Tyler was starting to burn out, and when it finally came to the point where Michael and Chris were trying to rap Car Radio, he could not have been more grateful to feel Josh pulling him into the hallway and up the stairs.

“They’re gonna realize we left,” Tyler had said nervously, glancing down the stairs behind them.

“Not if we’re sneaky,” Josh shot back, raising a finger to his lips and tiptoeing adorably up the remainder of the staircase. 

They kicked off their shoes in the hallway, and as soon as they were inside Tyler’s room, Josh padded over to the bed and flopped down head first, mumbling something into the mattress about being sleepy. 

“Move over,” Tyler grumbled, grabbing Josh by his sock feet and dragging him so that he lay vertically on the bed, before flopping down next to him. 

When Nick had moved out last month, Tyler had seized the opportunity to leave his depressing basement room, in favor of Nick’s old bedroom at the top of the house. It meant that he had to share a bathroom with Chris, but it was worth it; this room was ten times better than his old one. Most notably, it had a skylight right above the bed, which made nighttime contemplation and torturous insomnia a lot more bearable. On clear nights, he had an unparalleled view of the stars, obscured only by the tips of a few leafless branches. 

This wasn't the first time he had lain here with Josh, looking up at the sky and talking until it started to lighten. He'd been surprised to find that Josh knew a lot about constellations and nebulas and stuff, and he'd spent one night letting Josh ramble on for hours about the mythology behind various star formations, pausing only for a long debate about the existence of extraterrestrial life. 

Tonight, though, there were no stars. Gentle snow was falling onto the glass, making the sky appear hazy and purple in the evening light of almost-December. 

“It's the color of a bruise,” Josh said. It was the kind of pithy and surprisingly logical comment that Tyler had come to expect from his best friend. 

“That’s such an aesthetically pleasing description,” he teased back. 

Josh huffed. “You're the lyricist, you describe it.”

He contemplated the sky for a few minutes.

“It's the color of the stains you get on your fingers after eating blackberries,” Tyler finally decided. “But yours is more emo. I like it.”

“Mm,” Josh mumbled in assent, before rolling off the bed and moving across the room. “Music,” he explained simply, in response to Tyler’s raised eyebrow. And sure enough, Josh was plugging his iPod into Tyler’s speakers, and thumbing through his library. “What do you want me to play?”

Tyler stretched sleepily. “Good stuff. I don't know. An album,” he said. “A good album.”

Immediately, Josh smiled, pressing his screen, and the opening notes of “Implicit Demand for Proof” filled the room.

“Haha, very _funny_ ,” Tyler snapped, sitting straight up and giving Josh an exasperated look. Sometimes he was in the mood to listen to his own stuff, but usually not after a show, and very rarely with other people around. 

“I'm kidding, I’m kidding,” Josh defended, moving to turn the volume all the way down. And when it came back up, Tyler could hear that he had put on Sigur Rós’s untitled album. 

“Good choice,” he said quietly, and he felt the bed sink down as Josh resumed his position next to him. 

Josh sighed contentedly. “I don't remember a time before I knew this album,” he hummed. 

Tyler nodded, but internally, his heart was beating against his chest. Josh didn't mean anything by that, right? He had probably forgotten that Tyler had leant him this record less than 24 hours after they met. It was the first in an infinite series of music recommendations that had passed between the two, and he was sure Josh hadn't meant it this way, but in Tyler’s mind, a time before this album meant a time before their friendship. 

He was too tired to overthink it. He changed the subject instead.

“So what was the verdict from Ashley?” he asked. “Good? Bad? ‘What the heck is he doing?’”

“Good!” Josh said almost too quickly, “Uh, good. Really very good. Tip-top” 

Tyler raised an eyebrow. 

“I'm might be tipsy,” Josh added suddenly, and Tyler burst out laughing. 

“Alright, well I'm glad to know that we have her seal of approval,” he said, still giggling. Josh’s smile faltered slightly, and Tyler gave him another questioning look. “What?” 

“Nothing,” Josh replied. “I was just… I mean, I don't know.” 

The drunken humor was gone from his voice. He turned his head, and Tyler saw that his eyes were filled with a confusing mixture of tenderness and concern. 

“You played ‘Taxi Cab,’” he finally said. 

“Oh,” Tyler said dumbly, rolling over so they were face-to-face. “Yeah, I did.” 

Josh stared at him, as if he were searching Tyler’s eyes. 

“You - I mean...” he began, sounding conflicted. “I mean, am I imagining things, Ty? You haven't played that since-”

“I know,” he interrupted, and Josh closed his mouth. 

They had never talked about that night or that phone call, and Tyler had secretly been hoping that playing Taxi Cab would let him say thank you without having to have a conversation. It's not that he had actively avoided broaching the topic, but after Josh had returned from tour at the beginning of fall, it just hadn't come up, and it hadn't happened again.

“I know,” he repeated quietly. “And… uh. You're not imagining things.”

Josh nodded. If he had read anything into Tyler’s answer, he gave no indication of it. 

“Are you like… you're not, I mean…” he sighed, and Tyler could see him fighting to say the right thing. “Are you okay, Tyler?”

He opened his mouth automatically to tell Josh that he was fine, to stop worrying, but caught himself before he spoke. Josh was maybe the only person in the world who would rather hear the truthful answer than the easy one. 

But, he _was_ fine, wasn't he? By anyone’s standards, he was doing alright. The band had a following, he was holding down a steady (albeit shitty) side job, and he was basically on good terms with everyone in his life. He hadn't opened his box of razors in months, and he was even going to church.

Still, that was only one side of the story, and Josh already knew that version. The other version, the one that he poured into journals and angry prayers, was hard to acknowledge, and harder still to put into words. He thought about telling Josh that he spent some nights sobbing on his knees, asking forgiveness for the places his mind had wandered as he was trying to fall asleep. He thought about dragging Josh to the basement, plugging in his keyboard, and making him listen to the jumbled mess of a song that he'd been trying to get un-stuck from his throat, in which the only solid section he had so far was just a plea for someone to _‘entertain my faith.’_

He thought about blurting out that everything he thought knew about himself was slowly being picked apart and rearranged, the more time they spent together. 

He didn't do any of those things.

“I’m tired,” he finally said, and was surprised to hear his voice come out sounding cracked and weak. Josh didn't say anything, simply wrapping an arm around Tyler, pulling him in so that his head rested on Josh’s chest. It was soft, and scary, and _so warm._

“Sorry, is this…uh…?” Josh asked, trailing off. Tyler just curled himself closer. He didn't want to think. He was too tired to think. 

“S’nice,” he mumbled. “Bro cuddles.”

“ _Bro cuddles_ ,” Josh repeated under his breath, and Tyler could feel his face breaking into a grin. 

“Bruddles,” Tyler offered, peaking up at Josh, who rolled his eyes. 

They lay there in silence for awhile, just looking up at the snow. After a few minutes, Tyler realized with a quiet thrill that Josh had started absentmindedly playing with his hair where it rested under his hand. And although his first instinct was to sigh and lean into the touch, he nevertheless found himself tensing up slightly.

“What?” Josh asked, frowning slightly at Tyler, before realizing what his hand was doing and retracting it, blushing crimson. “Oh. Sorry.” 

Rationally, Tyler knew that he was supposed to play the whole thing off like a joke, tease Josh for being touchy-feely, and then pretend it never happened. But the only thing he could focus on was how nice it had felt to have Josh’s fingers gently twirling his hair. He knew that Josh would probably keep doing it if he asked, but something about that seemed illicit and unfair, as if Tyler would be giving him the wrong impression, even though he wasn't even sure what impression he wanted to give anymore. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered finally. 

And then, throwing caution to the wind, Tyler reached an arm over Josh’s torso, shifting so that his chest was flush against Josh’s side. _If they weren't cuddling before_ , Tyler thought as he buried his head further into Josh’s shirt, _they definitely were now._ Something about all of this felt overwhelmingly familiar, and it took Tyler a minute to realize that it was because he had imagined himself into this position almost every night for six months. 

“Hey,” Josh said quietly, nudging his head in the direction of the digital clock on Tyler’s dresser, which read ‘12:12’ in little red letters. “Happy birthday, dude.” 

“Oh, right,” he mumbled. He had very nearly forgotten that there were dozens of people downstairs.

“And, you know, ‘rabbit rabbit,” Josh added.

Tyler raised an eyebrow. “Rabbit rabbit?

“Yeah, ‘rabbit rabbit!” Josh repeated enthusiastically, pulling away slightly and propping himself up on his elbow. “You know, on the first of the month, you have to say ‘rabbit rabbit’ before you say anything else, and then you'll have 31 days of good luck.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, but snuggled back into Josh’s side. “That is so not a thing, but im’ma let it slide because you're tipsy.” 

Sigur Rós was still playing softly from the speakers. Track 7 or 8, Tyler thought. He could never keep them straight.

He thought about how there were certain moments, usually accompanied by certain music, where you could see yourself, your moment in time, as it exists in the whole span of history. You could almost see yourself looking back on it, or someone else looking in on it, saying _look at these boys, these friends, on this bed, while it’s snowing._

_Look at them. They're alive._

“Josh?” he said, and the word felt loud in the quiet room. 

“Yeah?” 

“Thanks for coming tonight, man.” It didn’t need to be said, but he said it anyway. It was worth it for the shy half-smile that crept onto Josh’s face, visible even in the dark. 

A few minutes later, he heard Josh's breaths started to grow heavy, and he looked over to see that he had drifted off to sleep, with Tyler still curled around his frame. 

Slowly, his heart beating so loud that he thought Josh might wake up just from the sound, Tyler leaned over, millimeter by millimeter, and pressed his lips to Josh’s cheek. He left them there for a second too long, and he was sure that Josh’s eyes were about to fly open any moment, but he remained peacefully asleep, snoring gently through parted lips.

Tyler rested his head back in the curve of Josh’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He lay there for only a few more moments, thinking of constellations and snow, before sleep washed over him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> søøn


	8. Remember the Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about drumming and it probably shows - whoops! 
> 
> I am nervous about posting this chapter. But I very much enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Josh’s new job probably wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to anyone in the history of the universe, but that’s basically what it felt like. House of Heroes hadn't exactly been a solid source of cash flow, but it had made things a lot more comfortable. Josh had gone a couple months scraping together rent money just with his Guitar Center salary, but there were only so many shifts he could take as a low-level employee, and around Valentine’s day, he’d buckled down and started looking for a second job. Truthfully, he’d been holding out for another drumming gig to surface, and there were a few fill-in opportunities here and there, but when his bank finally sent him one of those “ _your checking account balance fell below $25_ ” emails after his February rent payment, Josh was forced to face reality. 

In the end, it had been Nick who helped him get a position at the retail outlet where he now spent three late-nights a week stocking women’s clothes. Fortunately, there was no customer-level interaction when you work at 3 a.m, so Josh was allowed to keep his headphones in the entire time. All in all, it could have been a lot worse, but on days when he arrived back home at sunrise and had to be at Guitar Center by noon, Josh had to wonder if this was really what he was going to be doing for the rest of this life. 

It seemed like the exit to the future had been missed somewhere along the road, and now he was stuck in an indeterminate hell while everyone else was still moving forward. It seemed like the _someday_ that he and Tyler had once held onto was slipping out of his hands, while Tyler still held on, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. 

It seemed like it might be almost time to give up - until, one late afternoon in May, he got the call. 

“I need you to fill in for a show,” Tyler said. 

Josh had been leaning back in his bed, but when he registered what Tyler was saying, he shot up, pressing the phone to his ear.

“When?” he asked quickly, refusing to believe that this was actually happening. 

“It's this Saturday, out at OU.” 

_No, no, no…_ Josh was filling in for another band at a gig in Wisconsin on Friday night, and they would literally have to drive back to Ohio without sleeping in order to make it to Athens. Josh calculated the timing of the trip quickly, deciding that it would be hell, but they could make it. He could do it. 

He realized that Tyler was still talking.

“...just a dumb house party thing, but they're paying us, and it’s Chris’s brother’s wedding this weekend, so…” Tyler hesitated. “I mean, you don't have to do it. If you can't make it, it's honestly fine, we’ll figure something out. But, yeah, we’re rehearsing tomorrow, if… you…?” he trailed off. 

Josh felt his stomach sink. Of course they had to rehearse tomorrow. The universe couldn't make this one thing, the only thing that he desperately wanted, even the slightest bit easy. 

_But,_ Josh realized suddenly, _it was easy._ He didn't even have to think twice about it - this was the simplest decision he'd had to make in months. Even if it was only one night, and even if Josh was only being called in as a last resort, Tyler wanted to make music with him, and there was absolutely no way in hell that he was going to let anything get in the way of that. 

“I have to work tomorrow night, and there’s no way I could get off on this short notice,” he said, measuring his words.

“Oh,” said Tyler, sounding disappointed. “Okay, well it's-” 

“So I'll just quit my job,” Josh finished.

Tyler didn't say anything for a minute. 

“Ha ha,” he whispered, but when Josh didn't laugh, Tyler seemed to realize that he was not even a little bit kidding. 

“Josh, that's completely ridiculous,” he went on. “That's insane. Do not quit your job for one show. For a _rehearsal_ for one show. Oh my god, you can't do that, Josh, I can't let you do that,” he babbled. 

“Too bad,” Josh said firmly. “It's a dumb job, and I'm quitting. What time tomorrow?”

“Three, at the house,” Tyler said, voice muffled, and Josh could picture him, curled up into a ball on the couch and smiling against his knees, absently biting at the fabric. They knew each other so well. 

Tyler spoke again, hesitating. “Josh, you get that Chris - I mean - you know that -” 

“It's just one show,” Josh cut him off. “I get it. I'll be there.” 

He heard Tyler let out a long breath, which turned into a nervous laugh. 

“Okay,” Tyler finally said. “Okay! Alright! We’re doing this!” 

“Yeah,” Josh said, letting himself smile for the first time since he’d picked up the phone. “ _Finally._ ”

 

\--------

 

Tyler was quickly realizing that this was probably the most nervous he had been for a rehearsal since he had first asked Chris to come drum for him. There was really no actual reason for his nerves - Josh had watched him do all of these songs a million times by now, and Tyler knew that Josh was good enough to recreate them with no problem. But this day - this first and maybe only rehearsal with Josh - felt like it needed to be savored.

“Alright,” Tyler began, once they had set up all the equipment in the basement. “Okay. So I thought we could just go through all the songs on the setlist a few times, until you feel relatively comfortable with them, Josh. And don't worry about trying to do exactly what Chris does, because as long as you can keep up with the changes it should be fine.” 

Josh just grinned and nodded. Tyler wondered if he was keeping quiet because of Nick’s presence.

“So we were planning on starting out with 'Ode to Sleep' like usual, but uh…” Tyler trailed off.

“But that one's kinda complicated, tempo-wise,” Nick supplied, turning to Josh. “So we could warm up with something easier?” 

Josh blinked, looking back and forth between the two of them. “It's fine, we can do 'Ode to Sleep.' I mean… yeah. I pretty much know it,” he said, shrugging. 

“Alright, fair enough!” Nick chirped, moving to queue up the backing track. “You can generally just watch me for the changes, Josh. I'll probably be more helpful than Tyler.” 

“Thanks!” snapped Tyler, rolling his eyes.

“Hey man,” countered Nick, “I'm just saying. You're jumping around and doing your thing, which is great, but that isn't going to let Josh know when we’re going into the pre chorus!” 

Tyler couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about this configuration. Maybe it was just the fact that he, Josh, and Nick had never hung out before all together, or maybe it was because he was used to having NickandChris as one friend unit, and Josh as another. It was almost as if Nick was still in show-off mode, trying to impress “the new guy” like he had tried to impress Chris when they first started jamming with him. But this was _Josh._ He wished Nick would just calm down and let him drum. 

As if on cue, the haunting major third that signaled the beginning of the “Ode to Sleep” track filled the basement, and Tyler was brought back down to earth. This was his favorite song to perform - he had to just do what he would normally do, and trust that Josh would have his back on this, like he did on everything else. 

There was percussion already embedded in the beginning of the track, and they usually just let it play until they all came in right at the same time. But before anyone could stop him, Josh was closing his eyes and adding a few gentle cymbal rolls over the music.

Nick raised an eyebrow in Tyler’s direction, but he just smiled back at him, shrugging gleefully. There was no way he was going to stop Josh from doing his thing. 

And then, eight bars later, Josh came in with the beat so forcefully that Tyler almost forgot to play his keyboard line. It was the same pattern that Chris had always done, but it just felt… _fuller,_ somehow. More _alive._

As promised, Nick cued him to cut off right before Tyler started singing, but Josh silenced his drums without even opening his eyes. And then, halfway through the verse, he was slamming the kick and coming back in again, right on time, opening his eyes long after Nick had signaled the change. He kept up with all the shifts in tempo and style as if he had been doing it for years, throwing himself into the first pre chorus with a measured vengeance.

Eventually, Nick quit trying to cue Josh altogether, as it became more and more clear that Josh was neither noticing or needing it. 

On the second verse, Tyler almost forgot the words because of the things Josh was doing - adding in a syncopated kick line that underscored the lyrics, and comping in a way that almost felt like harmony…

Tyler loved Chris with all his heart, but this, having Josh backing him up, was like nothing he had ever felt before onstage, let alone in his basement. The drums were so loud, so impeccably forceful, that it felt like a second heartbeat pounding through Tyler’s chest, both grounding and fueling him. 

And, what’s more, when Tyler allowed himself to sneak the occasional glance at the drum kit, the sight that met him was mesmerizing to the point of distraction. Josh would have his head tilted back, eyes closed, just letting the beat overwhelm him. Even on this unfamiliar kit, his hands and feet simply knew where to go without him having to look. And when they ran through “Holding On to You” - which Tyler was _sure_ Josh had only heard once or twice - he made it feel like an entirely different song, so much so that Tyler was almost debating whether they should re-record it with Josh on the track. 

“Stop,” Tyler said suddenly, replacing the microphone on its stand and moving around the keyboard towards a somewhat surprised looking Josh. “Do that again.”

Josh raised his eyebrows. “What, the fill?” 

He nodded. “Can you recreate that?”

“Absolutely,” Josh said without hesitation, and did it again, exactly how he had before. He looked sheepishly up at Tyler, who was standing there with his mouth open. “I've been thinking about that one for awhile.”

Tyler blinked. “You've been thinking... about that fill? For awhile?”

“Um. Yeah,” he admitted, a tiny blush forming on his cheeks. “Since I first heard the song. Is it too much? Sorry, I can dial it back if -” 

“No, actually.” This time it was Nick who spoke. “I think what Tyler was trying to say is that that was fucking awesome.” 

For a few moments, the three of them all just looked at each other with huge grins plastered on their faces, until Josh awkwardly asked if they should take it from the top and they all shuffled back to their instruments. 

“Alright,” said Tyler, catching Josh’s eye and feeling like he was on the absolute top of the world. “Let's go."

 

\--------

 

The show itself turned out to consist of more drunk people than either of them had had ever encountered in their lives. Josh had always done a pretty good job of avoiding frat parties - primarily by never going to college - but this was even worse than he had imagined. Even the guy who had hired them greeted them shirtless with a solo cup in his hand, and had to try a few times before successfully directing them to the stage area, which was just a very old wooden deck in the backyard of the house. 

It wasn’t the kind of show where people were there just for them, but nevertheless, Tyler managed to draw enough attention to the stage just by being himself, and by the time they were ready to launch into the first song - “Ode to Sleep” - a sizable crowd had gathered in front of the makeshift stage. Josh shifted anxiously behind the drum set, reminding himself that this might be his one and only twenty one pilots show as an actual member of the band. Even if no one else was paying attention, he was going to make sure that he was. 

And of course, as soon as the music began, he stopped thinking about the drunk people. He drowned out everything except the music, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he moved his limbs around his kit. This had been the first song he had heard live, and now it was the first song he was playing live. Nothing could stop him. Not the drunken yelling, not the smell of pot, not the girls shrieking with laughter, not the sirens…

Wait. 

He registered a few seconds too late that the music had stopped, and that Nick was in rapid conversation with a somewhat disgruntled looking police officer. It was too loud for Josh to catch much of their exchange, but he could clearly make out the words “too rowdy” and “shut you down, sorry.” 

He looked to Tyler, who was still sitting at his piano, looking over at Nick and the officer sadly. 

Fuck, mouthed Josh, and the hint of a smile appeared on Tyler’s face before his brow furrowed again. 

The cops seemed to have successfully broken up most of the drunken clumps of frat guys, but Josh could still see a few completely hammered guys lurking around the stage, seemingly unaware that the show was over. 

“Twenty one piloooots!” one of them shouted, raising his cup and managing to slosh beer all down his front without noticing. Josh just focused on disassembling his drums, turning a blind eye to the drunk boys’ attempts to get the band’s attention, until one of them actually whipped out his dick, and started heading for their merch table, and Josh couldn’t just stand there anymore. 

“Hey, asshole!” he shouted, climbing awkwardly over his drums and launching himself at the drunk guy, and narrowly avoiding being peed on as he shoved him forcefully away from their table. “Go piss somewhere else, fucking dick!” 

The guy flipped him off, but he was already being dragged away by a few slightly more sober looking friends. Josh was already halfway to the point of following after him, when he felt Tyler’s hand on his arm, pulling him back. 

“Josh!” he yelled, though he seemed to be fighting a smile. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Josh gestured frustratedly at the drunken offender. “He was trying to piss on the fucking merch!” he shouted, and Tyler pressed his lips together, holding back a laugh. 

Josh was trying to keep his face appropriately angry, but in all honesty, he felt like he could conquer the world right now. He was riding the energy of that one song, still completely on cloud nine - and he had to be, he had no choice but to stay in this exhilarated moment, because the reality that this might have been his first and only show with Tyler was far too much to handle. 

Tyler was still staring at him, a mixture of amusement and pity on his face. 

“You threw everything away to play _one song,_ and you're… this happy right now?” 

Josh just responded by wrapping his arms around Tyler’s waist and sweeping him off of his feet into a hug, spinning him around as the other boy yelped in surprise. 

“Yeah, I’m happy, because this was fun,” he said, setting Tyler down. “It was a stupid job, and I’d rather be here. So hush.” And with that, he took Tyler by the hand and steered them back towards their makeshift stage. 

“C’mon,” he added cheerfully. “Let's pack up and go to Taco Bell.” 

 

\--------

 

Once they had stopped for food, the adrenaline of the show had worn off enough that the rest of the the drive back to Columbus was mostly silent. Tyler’s car was still missing its radio, and he spent most of the time staring quietly over the steering wheel, barely saying a word. They’d packed all of Josh’s drums into this car, relegating everything else into Nick’s SUV, to be taken back to the rental house, and they were just turning into Josh’s neighborhood when Tyler finally spoke.

“You know... that I wish...” Tyler began slowly, looking down at his hands, “that it could really be like this. Right?” 

Josh nodded. He didn’t need any more explanation. 

“I know,” he said quietly, but Tyler shook his head. 

“I mean… that, yes, but… I just wish… all of it,” he mumbled, face screwed up. “That all of it could be easy.” 

He pulled up outside of Josh’s apartment, but neither of them made any move to get out of the car. They stayed sitting like that for a few more minutes, Tyler staring at the dashboard, and Josh staring at Tyler. Finally, Josh broke their silence. 

“I’m not giving up on us,” he said firmly, and Tyler looked up at him, blinking. They both knew that he was talking about the band, but they also both knew that he wasn’t. 

“Good,” said Tyler. “Don’t.” 

It was only after they’d made the last trip of carrying his drums inside (which Tyler had insisted on helping with, despite Josh’s reassurances that he didn’t have to) that Josh really got a good look at his friend’s face. It was too dark to tell for sure, and maybe it was just the odd glow of the street lamps on their sweaty bodies, but Josh could have sworn that he saw tear tracks drying on his face. 

Wordlessly, Tyler moved towards him, and then in one swift motion, collapsed into his arms. 

Josh wanted to ask, but he settled for wrapping his arms around Tyler’s limp frame. He felt chills go down his spine as Tyler pressed his face into his neck, and Josh let his hands come up to stroke through his hair once or twice. This was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, and, much as it had during the show a few hours earlier, Josh’s brain was telling him over and over to remember this moment, to savor it in case it didn’t come again. 

But then - was he dreaming? - there was the faintest touch of lips on his neck, brushing silently across his skin, and warm breath so soft that he almost thought he was imagining it... 

“Tyler?” he breathed.

And then it was over. The spell was broken, and Tyler was pulling back swiftly, avoiding his eyes as he moved around his car and opened the driver’s side door, leaving Josh standing open-mouthed in his driveway as his car pulled out into the night. 

 

\--------

 

“So let me get this straight,” said Michael, setting his beer bottle back on the coffee table and turning to face Tyler. They, along with Mark, were sprawled out on the living room couch, surrounded by empty pizza boxes, beer bottles, and soda cans. “He basically ended up quitting his job to play one song with you guys, and then almost got peed on?” 

“Yup, that pretty much sums it up,” Tyler nodded, taking a sip of coke. 

It was Friday night, six days since the show with Josh, and six days since Tyler had left him standing in outside his apartment with no explanation. They hadn’t spoken since then, and as much as the guilt was eating away at him, Tyler couldn’t bring himself to break their silence. It would force him to acknowledge what he had done in the driveway, and he knew better than to let that dam break - it was holding back far too much. 

“Dude,” Michael replied, shaking his head. “I kinda wish I was there for that, to be perfectly honest.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Oh sure, then _you_ could have gotten peed on,” he said. 

“No, I would have taken out those frat boys single handedly,” he argued, and Tyler closed his eyes, drowning out the rest of their friendly argument. 

A tiny voice in his head, which was growing louder as the week pressed on, kept reminding him that this, what he was doing to Josh, was unfair in a thousand different ways. He knew that if he didn’t start being honest with himself, if he didn’t get it together soon, there was no reason why Josh should stick around. He was the last person in the world who deserved to be at the brunt of Tyler’s confusion. 

All of this was so vastly far into the realm of uncharted territory that Tyler didn’t even know where to begin; and yet, at the same time, he was certain that as soon as he took one step over this line, there was no turning back. There were certain moments - like seeing Josh drumming to one of his songs, bouncing on his stool with his head thrown back - that made it impossible not to want to charge into that territory and never look back again. But there was too much to lose, too much uncertainty...

Tyler was startled out of his thoughts by a gentle hand on his shoulder from behind the couch, and he whipped around to see Chris standing behind him. 

“Hey man,” Chris said quietly, beckoning Tyler over behind the kitchen island. “Can you c’mere for a sec?” 

Tyler cast one glance towards his other friends on the couch, who shrugged unhelpfully, before making his way over to Chris. 

He hoisted himself onto the island. “What’s up?” 

“Alright,” began Chris, leaning against the opposite counter. “First of all, I've already talked to Nick about this, and he's cool with it, so don't worry about that. But I wanted to tell you before you heard it from him.” 

Tyler nodded, eyes wide. What was going on?

“My boss brought me in yesterday,” Chris began. “He told me that he wanted to make me assistant manager, which is a big deal.” 

“That’s great! ” Tyler started to say, but Chris cut him off. 

“So I'm finally gonna be able to take one for the team, and step down from the band,” he said, smiling sadly at Tyler.

“What?” Tyler spluttered. “That's - Chris! What are you talking about? You don’t have to -” 

But Chris just shook his head, interrupting him. 

“Tyler, I feel very grateful to have helped you start this project, I really do. But I'm old enough to know when to step back and let it take off the way it needs to. You guys have outgrown me. We both know what really needs to happen if twenty one pilots is going to go as far as it deserves to.”

He blinked. “We do?”

Chris straightened up, clapping him on the shoulder. “It's seriously alright, man,” he reassured. “you don't need to play dumb. I swear to God I'm not going to be insulted. Nick told me you practically had stars in your fucking eyes at the OU gig, and honestly I can't blame you. I get it. I'm not going anywhere, don't worry!” he added, taking in Tyler’s hurt and confused expression. “Unless you're planning on kicking me out of the house, that is. But I'll be around, man. For as long as you'll let me.”

And then, with one more squeeze of his shoulder, Chris was out the door, and Tyler was left frozen in the kitchen with Mark and Michael staring back at him from the couch, clearly having overheard the whole thing.

“Well,” said Mark, slowly standing up.

“Well what?” Tyler asked blankly. 

Mark looked at Michael, and then turned back to him, grinning. 

“Call him!” 

“Call who?” Tyler squeaked, and both of his friends rolled their eyes. 

“ _Call him_ ,” Mark repeated. 

Tyler opened his mouth again in confusion, before the weight of the situation hit him all at once. He hadn't even put two and two together yet, hadn't stopped to consider what this meant. Everything Chris had been hinting at was rapidly becoming clear. 

Shakily, Tyler slid open his phone, and pressed Josh’s name. It felt ridiculous that it was happening like this, after all these months, with so little ceremony or bravado. It was just this; a phone call in the middle of the night. 

“Did I leave something in your car?” Josh asked when he picked up, in lieu of a hello, and Tyler was genuinely taken aback by the bluntness and exhausted resignation of his tone. 

“Oh,” said Tyler. “Um. No.” The sound of cheering and laughter muffled Josh's response, and Tyler wondered if he was at a house party. His stomach churned unpleasantly with the idea that Josh might be upset enough to have gone out without him.

“Hold on,” murmured Josh, which was followed by a muffled sound, as if the phone had rolled out of his grasp. “it’s loud in here, just lemme…okay.” 

He glanced at Mark and Michael, staring expectantly at him from across the room, and Tyler slid down onto the floor, squatting against the cabinets where they couldn’t see him. The loud background noises over the line slowly dissipated. 

“Josh?” he said quietly.

“Yeah? What is it?” 

He took a breath, and felt his face break into a smile at what he was about to do. 

“Do you wanna be in twenty one pilots?” 

The line was silent. 

“Josh?” he repeated anxiously. 

“What about Chris?” Tyler heard him whisper. 

He tried to keep his voice even, tried to sound casual, but he knew that there was no point.

“He quit just now. Said he... didn't have time. He wants you to take his place.” Tyler paused, his breath catching in his throat. “ _I_ want you to take his place.”

He heart a deep breath, and then Josh spoke quietly. “Are you serious?” 

Tyler bit his lip. “I’m serious.” 

“ _I’m_ serious!” Josh practically shouted. 

Tyler tried to laugh, but it turned into the kind of involuntary gasp where you’re not sure if you’re going to yell or start crying. “Okay, well, yeah! We’re both serious. So, yeah. You’re in the band.” 

He could practically _hear_ Josh’s grin, and Tyler felt like his own face was going to split in half. No amount of imagining this moment could have prepared him for how absolutely euphoric it felt. 

“Are you home?” Josh asked suddenly, and Tyler murmured in assent. “Okay,” Josh went on. “Do not move. Literally stay exactly where you are.” 

“What are you-” Tyler demanded, but Josh cut him off. 

“ _Stay right there, Ty._ ” 

The call ended, and Tyler was left frozen in the kitchen, his mouth slightly open. 

“Well?” demanded Michael.

“I don’t know,” said Tyler blankly. “I mean yes, good, he’s happy and everything, but… yeah. He said not to move.” 

Mark frowned. “Not to move? What does that mean?”

“No idea,” Tyler replied, shrugging and standing up.

Not even three minutes passed before Tyler heard someone burst through the front door, and then Josh was appearing around the corner, sweat streaked and disheveled, as if he had been sprinting. For several seconds, Josh just stood there, panting in the entryway with wild eyes fixed on Tyler. 

“Mark? Michael? Avert your eyes,” Josh said, his gaze unmoving. 

“Um,” came Mark’s voice from the living area. “Why?”

“Because,” he said. “I’m about to kiss Tyler.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Tyler felt his heart stop. Josh hadn't moved an inch - he was still staring at him wildly, asking a question with his eyes, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. 

And then, it happened so quickly that Tyler almost missed it: Josh was moving across the kitchen and taking Tyler’s face in both of his hands, resting their foreheads together. Tyler felt his own hands sliding up automatically to grip Josh’s collar as their chests rose and fell. He was acutely aware of every point where their bodies were touching, and the tickle of warm breath on his chin as Josh stared down at his lips. 

He was giving Tyler plenty of time to back out of this, plenty of time to pull away or tell him to fuck off, but he couldn’t, he didn’t… his heart was beating so fast that it was almost nauseating; it was exhilarating, and _scary,_ and Tyler started to get the feeling that this was what everyone else in the universe meant when they talked about _love._

The realization reached Tyler just about the same time that Josh’s lips did, and he surrendered immediately to both. Josh surged into him with so much force that he almost stumbled backwards, kept in place only by Josh bringing one hand to press steadily into the small of his back while the other still cradled his face, fingers gripping the back of Tyler's neck in a desperate attempt to draw him even closer.

They were practically fighting to stay upright, each of them lunging at the other with every new furious kiss. The dam was breaking, Tyler was drowning, and he didn’t care. He didn’t care that it was happening in his kitchen, or that their friends were watching from fifteen feet away. He couldn’t care about or think about anything except the fact that he was finally starting to understand why sex existed, why people made love, because in this moment, he literally could not get close enough to Josh. He wanted to press them together until they were the same person. 

For the briefest of seconds, they broke away to catch their breath, before Tyler was reconnecting their lips, slamming Josh against the fridge, tangling his hands in his hair, and kissing him like his life depended on it, because right then at least, it felt like it did. Tyler found himself forgetting to breathe, found himself keeping his lips moving against Josh’s as long as humanly possible while remaining conscious, and then gasping for air and starting again. It was desperate, and electric, but it was also achingly, hypnotically slow, as if the universe itself had slowed down to watch them finally figure it out after all this time. 

When they eventually pulled apart from each other, neither made any attempt to keep huge grins from breaking out over their faces. No more ignoring it, no more holding it in or trying to stay cool. Just this - swollen lips, hands fisted in shirts, and the kind of clarity that Tyler hadn’t felt in years, or maybe ever. 

He turned his head cautiously back towards the couches, and saw that Mark and Michael had not moved an inch from the positions they had been standing in when Josh had entered the room. Michael seemed to have forgotten how to close his jaw, and Mark was standing there looking like Christmas had come early. But explanations - if there even were any - could come later, Tyler decided, turning back to Josh, who wrapped his arms tightly around his torso. 

“I’m in your band,” Josh said dumbly, smiling and breathing hard. 

“Our band,” whispered Tyler, and his chest was on fire, and Josh kissed him again, and again, and _again - hands, lips, stubble -_ and Tyler kissed him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have waited so long. Thank you for sticking with me. 
> 
> So much more love to come.


	9. In a Simple Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The support and praise that I received for the last chapter (especially the final scene) was mind-boggling. I cannot express how grateful I am for the love that this fic is getting… it is a huge source of encouragement for me. I hope that I can continue to live up to your expectations! 
> 
> |-/

Sunday afternoon found Josh on the stoop of the rental house, ten minutes early for his first rehearsal as an actual member of twenty one pilots. 

Remarkably, he and Tyler hadn’t seen each other since the early hours of Saturday morning. As much as every particle of his being had wanted to stay in that kitchen forever, Josh had finally been forced to return to the house party a few blocks over where he had abandoned his car, as well as several inebriated friends, including his roommate. And then Tyler had had to work the next day, and Josh had already promised to spend it with his family, so they’d reluctantly agreed to seeing each other first thing after church on Sunday. 

It had barely mattered, though. Nothing could have knocked Josh down in the hours following that kiss. He hadn’t stopped smiling for the rest of the night, not even when Dustin puked in his back seat. He had kissed Tyler. _And Tyler had kissed him back._

He hadn’t stopped smiling all through the next day, even with Tyler at work on the other side of Columbus. He’d smiled while he raked leaves for his mother, smiled through their family dinner, and had fallen asleep with the prospect of Sunday afternoon to keep him warm. 

It almost felt like a good thing that they were forced to spend a day away from one another, to adjust to the fact that their worlds had turned upside down; but at the same time, Josh found himself constantly fearing that when they finally saw each other again, he’d be met with a distant and regretful Tyler, telling him that they’d made a mistake and they should just be band mates… that he’d made a mistake all together, and Chris was coming back...

But that didn’t happen. 

All his anxieties and misgivings were quelled as soon as Tyler opened the door, and Josh saw the way that he was beaming at him.

“Hey,” Tyler breathed.

For a few seconds, Josh just smiled back, out of breath and lost for words. And then Tyler was lunging in to kiss him, and Josh’s arms were finding their place around his waist, and doubt was a foreign concept. 

Somehow, it was better than before. Nothing existed other than Tyler’s lips, except maybe the feeling of their chests pressed together, and their heartbeats overlapping. They were so close, and still not close enough. 

Eventually, Josh became frustrated with kissing; he had to be marginally separated from Tyler in order to keep their lips attached, and the empty air between their shoulders registered in his mind as vaguely absurd. So he buried his face in Tyler’s hair instead, pressing every inch of their torsos together. Tyler tightened his grip, and Josh hugged him hard enough to lift him off his toes, making him squeak in surprise. 

They stayed like that until Josh’s arms grew too tired to hold him up, and Tyler gave him one last squeeze before they pulled apart, smiling. 

_Some greeting,_ Josh thought. _Holy shit._

“Basement?” Tyler suggested somewhat regretfully, and Josh nodded in agreement. He was here to rehearse, after all, and nothing could possibly distract him from the excitement of this first rehearsal.

Alright, Tyler could definitely distract him. And he was doing a good job of it. They had barely made it into the basement hallway before Tyler was tightening his grasp on his hand, and pulling him in for another kiss. 

He was slightly taken aback by the rough enthusiasm with which Tyler kept kissing him, but he certainly wasn’t about to complain. Josh was quickly realizing that while he might be making up for a year of lost time, Tyler was making up for a lifetime of it; and that thought alone made him want to wrap his arms around Tyler and hold on for ever - to protect him, and let himself be protected. 

He let Tyler press him harder into the wall, surrendering to his desperate mouth and hands as they both clutched fitfully at each other - yet Josh found himself wanting to take Tyler by the shoulders and hold him steady, to coax him to slow down, and remind him that they had all the time in the universe now. 

“Hold on,” he whispered, bringing a hand to Tyler’s cheek and meeting his eyes, which looked back at him with such complete and utter trust that Josh almost melted. He ran his fingers slowly over Tyler’s lips, and then his jawline, silently asking permission to take control, to take care of him, and show him the quiet comforts of affection. 

And Tyler let him, sighing almost wistfully as Josh pressed slow kisses into his throat and stroked his hands through his hair, or cradled the back of Tyler’s neck as he nibbled gently at his lower lip. Everything became slow and soft and consuming, and Josh had never even known _himself_ to be this gentle, but with Tyler, it was easy. The dull burn in his chest had been replaced with a constant, rising warmth in his shoulders, light and buoyant and unlike anything in the world. He wasn't unleashing his feelings - he was indulging in them. 

Tyler pulled away suddenly, eyes wide and glistening.

“J - Josh,” he murmured quietly. “God, I’m so… this is…” 

“I know,” Josh said quickly. Any other time, Josh would be the last person to claim he understood what Tyler was thinking - he knew better than that - but this time, there was no doubt in his mind that they were experiencing the same indescribable wonderment at finally getting to _do this._

“This is so…” Tyler went on, barely audibly.

“...it’s so good,” Josh finished, because that was the unadulterated truth, and then Tyler's hungry lips were on his jaw again.

But rationality seeped slowly back in after a while, and Josh remembered why they were here in the first place. 

“Tyler, wait,” he hissed, as the other boy leaned back in. “Nick… isn’t Nick… _ahhh_ ,” he giggled breathily, quirking a shoulder up as Tyler brushed his lips against Josh’s ear, tickling him. “Nick’s gonna walk in on us!” he managed to spit out. 

It wasn’t that they’d made a conscious decision to keep this new development from their other band mate - they just hadn't had the chance to have that conversation with anyone other than Michael and Mark (and even that had been less of a conversation than it was an unintended demonstration). But Josh was confident that this was not how Tyler would want Nick to find out. 

“Nick is… not invited to this rehearsal,” Tyler said quietly, with a suspicious smile. 

Josh raised an eyebrow. 

“Stop, not like… _that_ ,” Tyler went on, cuffing him on the shoulder. “We’re still _rehearsing,_ but uh… I was thinking I could maybe show you some new stuff? And I didn’t really want Nick here…” 

And then Tyler was slipping back into his sheepish blush, ducking his head and tugging nervously at his hair. 

“But if that’s too weird,” he went on hurriedly, “I can call him, I don’t know…” 

Josh felt his affection for Tyler surge wildly, and he leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, earning himself a soft grin. 

“That sounds _perfect,_ ” he said, before taking Tyler’s hand and leading them the rest of the way into the basement. He kept a straight face, trying not to betray his jittery excitement at the idea that he was going to get to witness the birth of a new twenty one pilots song… that he was going to be _part of it,_ maybe. It felt like yesterday that he was just a shy and excited fan, staring at Tyler from the front row of the Newport. 

“Josh,” he heard Tyler say. 

“Hm?” 

“The drums are over there.” He was smiling and pointing across the room, and Josh realized that he had absent-mindedly followed Tyler over to the piano. 

“Oh,” he laughed gently. “Whoops.” 

Tyler bit his lip, and Josh wondered if he was holding back some kind of joke about Josh being clingy or overly affectionate. He understood why Tyler was hesitating; it almost felt as if talking about this, or acknowledging what they were doing, would somehow make it disappear or suddenly evaporate, like waking up from a dream. So, instead of speaking, Josh just pressed one more kiss to Tyler’s forehead before walking over to the kit, a silent mark of understanding and reassurance. Tyler ducked his head and smiled, and Josh had to physically force himself to walk away. 

They were never going to get anything done. 

“So,” Tyler began, fiddling with the switches on his keyboard as Josh settled himself behind the drums. “We have almost everything finished for most of the tracks on the new album. Which is great, but it also sucks, because… it might not have much of _you_ on it,” he finished, looking at Josh to gauge his reaction. 

Josh shrugged. “Fine by me,” he said honestly.

Tyler seemed unconvinced. “I mean there are one or two things where we could add you,” he continued, “but I’ve already made drum tracks for pretty much everything, although -” 

“Dude, Tyler, it’s fine,” Josh insisted. “If you’ve already made tracks, then you should use them! I’ll just have like thirty solos on the next album to make up for it.” 

Tyler’s face split into a grin. “Yeah?” 

Josh nodded. “For sure.” Neither of them questioned the inevitability of a next album; there would be one, because the future had fallen into place now, and everything was as it should be. Suddenly, not only did their dreams suddenly feel tangible and within reach, but they were reaching together now. 

“Maybe I should stick you on backup vocals,” Tyler teased. “That’s most of what I have left to do.” 

Josh furrowed his brow. “I don’t know, man. I’ve been in your band for two days and you already want me to sing? I might need to start looking for a band that appreciates my drum skills...” 

It was the emptiest threat in the universe - Josh would have played the kazoo if Tyler asked him, and they both knew it. 

“So… yeah,” Tyler went on nervously, moving over to crouch in front of his laptop. “This one… I don’t know. No one’s really heard it. I thought maybe… if you want to. I need help with it, I guess.” 

Josh’s heartbeat seemed to double in pace. “Yeah, that’d… that’d be awesome, Ty” he replied. 

Tyler grinned. “Cool. Yeah, it’s not… it’s kind of a work in progress, but I really want it on the album, I think, so… I don’t know.” He ducked his head to fumble with the playback settings, and Josh couldn’t help but smile gently at how nervous Tyler was getting over showing him a new song. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked for Josh’s opinion, but it was the first time that Josh had been here, behind the drum set, in a position to actually give it. 

“I’ll just leave the drum track on for now, if you want?” Tyler said. “I mean… yeah, I’ll just let you listen to it, and then maybe we can run through it or something,” he finished, and Josh nodded in assent. 

“Sounds good.” 

Tyler moved to press play on the laptop, and a mellow but haunting synth intro filled the speakers, before electric drums and Tyler’s voice entered all at once. 

_You will never know…_  
_What’s behind my skull…_  
_So won’t you say goodnight…._  
_So I can say goodbye...._

The lyrics were simple and terrifying, and if anyone else had written it, Josh would have been concerned for their wellbeing. But he knew that this was just another slice of Tyler’s beautiful mind made manifest, etched into the fabric of the universe through music. 

He let himself listen, forcing himself to split his attention between Tyler’s voice and the details of the drum line, so that he could replicate it later. The song built slowly over two verses and choruses, before it shifted into a slow, energized vamp, which seemed to be going nowhere and somewhere at the same time…

But then Tyler was fiddling with the laptop, and pressing pause on the track. 

“That’s all there is so far,” he explained, looking at his hands. “Like… a minute and a half of that, building up to…” he paused, frustrated. “Something. I don’t know. I don’t want to go back to the chorus, because it’s so much more chill, but at the same time, I don’t want to leave it as an instrumental outro, because it feels…” 

“Unfinished,” Josh supplied. “Yeah.” 

Tyler nodded. 

“What about rapping?” Josh suggested, only half kidding. 

“When in doubt, rap,” Tyler quipped, smirking. “Yeah… but I don’t have anything written for this.” 

Josh twirled a drumstick in one hand, thinking. “Wasn’t one of the verses in ‘Ode to Sleep’ borrowed from an older song?” he finally said. “You could do that, maybe. But I guess I don’t really know what I’m talking about, sorry…” he said, blushing. 

Tyler raised an eyebrow. “That’s actually not a bad idea,” he murmured. “I might be able to use… okay. Yeah. But that still doesn’t solve the problem, because if I start with a rap…”

“No, _end_ with the rap,” he clarified, and then immediately regretted his boldness. Josh knew that he had no place to tell Tyler how to write a song. Just because he’d had his tongue in Tyler’s mouth once or twice didn’t mean he’d gained any songwriting expertise.

But Tyler was looking at him with an interested and amused expression.

“Go on,” he said. 

Josh swallowed anxiously, half because he was being forced to explain himself, and half because he was thinking about Tyler’s tongue now. 

“What if we keep building up over that instrumental vamp,” Josh said tentatively, “and then on the last time through, you rap over it? And then we’ll go out suddenly, and no one will expect it, and… it will be cool? I don’t know,” he trailed off. 

Tyler seemed to be considering carefully. 

“Okay,” he finally said. “We can try that.” 

Josh felt a tiny shiver go through him from hearing Tyler say _we_. He’d been listening to Tyler use that word in reference to himself, Chris, and Nick for what felt like an eternity, and now it included him, and it shouldn’t have mattered so much, but it was the best thing in the entire world. 

Tyler bent over the laptop again, setting up the track to play from the beginning again. “I’m going to take the drums off,” he said, looking up at Josh with his eyebrows raised. “You good to play along?”

Josh beamed. “Definitely.”

He readied himself at the drums as Tyler leaned in to start the track. 

“Wait,” Josh blurted suddenly, and Tyler looked up at him, finger hovering over the play button. 

“What?” 

Josh fiddled with his drumsticks. “Nothing. Just… what’s it called?” 

“Oh,” he said, looking slightly surprised. “‘Anathema.’”

“What does that mean?” Josh asked, raising an eyebrow. He thought he might have heard the word before at church… something to do with a curse, maybe. 

“It means…” murmured Tyler, considering for a second, a tiny smile playing at his lips. “It means this song,” he finally said. 

Josh bit his lip as warmth spread through his heart for the thousandth time this weekend. Of course he wasn’t going to get a straight answer about a song meaning from Tyler. Once, soon after they’d started spending all their time together, Josh had asked Tyler whether the lyrics at the end of “Taxi Cab” were “morning sun,” or “morning, _son._ ”

 _“They’re whatever you need them to be,”_ Tyler had responded, and Josh had been in so deep already. 

This song clearly called for an electric drum pad, but Josh made do with his kick and his snare for now. He replicated what he’d heard on the track the best he could, as Tyler played quiet chords on his keyboard, and sang through to the second chorus. Josh found himself appreciating the fact that Tyler kept his eyes closed, because it meant that he could unabashedly stare at him, drinking in his angelic expression as he sang. If Josh could just spend the rest of his life watching Tyler from behind his drums, he wouldn’t be complaining. 

When the music shifted into the energized build, Josh adjusted his beat to match, slamming down forcefully every time the chord progression began again. 

And then Tyler was jumping up, taking the microphone with him, and beginning a fast and impassioned rap. 

_I start to part two halves of my heart in the dark, and I…_  
_Don’t know where I should go,_  
_And the tears and the fears begin to multiply…_  
_Taking time in a simple place,_  
_In my bed, where my head rests on a pillow case,_  
_And it’s said that a war’s led, but I forget_  
_That I let another day go by…_

Josh vaguely recognized these words as being from one of those high-school-years songs that Tyler had played him awhile back. The track ended at the exact same time that Tyler did, throwing his head back and screaming about empty skies, and Josh knew that this was it, this was the song. 

Tyler stared at him with feverish exhilaration, and Josh grinned back, until neither of them could take it anymore. He opened his arms, and Tyler rushed into them, climbing onto Josh’s lap to kiss him forcefully, the drum stool groaning beneath their combined weight. 

Josh still couldn't believe that this was allowed. 

Because it couldn't possibly be real, not when Tyler was hanging off of Josh, sitting on his thighs and hungrily attaching his lips to Josh’s neck. This couldn't possibly be real life, with Tyler’s teeth on his skin and Tyler’s hands in his hair, because 48 hours ago, this had purely been the stuff of dreams. 

Just as Josh was starting to process the fact that he was almost definitely being laboriously covered in hickeys, Tyler pulled back, smiling slightly, cheeks tinted pink with his perennial blush. 

“Is that okay?” Tyler breathed, running a gentle thumb over a bruising mark on Josh’s neck. “Can I?” 

And despite every rational instinct in Josh’s brain, telling him that this was a terrible idea, that they didn’t want people finding out this way, he found his resolve to have crumbled entirely in the face of Tyler’s teeth, so much so that when he opened his mouth to say that they shouldn’t, all that came out was a breathy _“please.”_

And that was all it took for Tyler to lean back in, nuzzling into Josh’s shoulder as he licked and sucked at his neck. 

“Oh God, _shiiit,_ ” Josh groaned, and he felt Tyler smile against his skin. 

Before long, Josh could feel them starting to slip off the tiny stool. He grabbed the back of Tyler’s thighs, earning himself a surprised squeak as he hauled himself up and carried Tyler over towards the couch.

Tyler never detached himself from his neck the whole way across the room, and Josh was pretty sure that his heart was starting to beat harder than it ever had before, other than maybe two days ago when he had sprinted four suburban blocks to kiss Tyler in the kitchen. 

He tried and failed to lay Tyler down without breaking their contact, but settled for crawling back on top of him as soon as they were in place. Tyler was warm underneath him, and every touch was fire now, and Josh’s head was beginning to swim. He ran a cautious hand under Tyler’s t-shirt, brushing over the soft skin of his hips, finding that it felt almost exactly like he had imagined it to feel every time Tyler’s shirt had ridden up too far over the last year - like flannel blankets, or warm milk. Everything, _everything,_ was soft with him. 

He vaguely registered the minute tightening of his pants as they pressed further into each other, but he was far more interested in the softness of Tyler’s skin, and little huffing sounds that he was making as Josh kissed down his neck. Instinct took over, and slowly, experimentally, he hooked his fingers into Tyler’s waistband, barely more than an inch… 

And then in the swift blink of an eye, everything was changing. Tyler was tensing up, and his huffs of pleasure were turning into panicked intakes of breath as he squirmed, turning his flushed face away from Josh, and pointedly avoiding his gaze. 

Josh retracted his hand immediately, and moved to take Tyler’s hands in his, gripping tightly. 

“Tyler… _Tyler,_ ” he whispered rapidly. “Tyler, I’m...sorry…” But Tyler was still looking in the other direction, fidgeting quietly, and it felt like the world had come to a halt.

“Tyler,” he pled again, concern rising into his throat. “Look at me, Ty. It’s...you’re okay. I promise. I’m...sorry. Tyler.” 

When Tyler finally turned his head to look at him, his eyes weren’t fearful, as Josh had expected, but full of shame, and apologies, and Josh felt his heart shattering into a million pieces. He moved quickly, sweeping Tyler’s body onto his lap in one fluid motion, and held onto him, tight. 

“I’m fine, it’s okay, Josh,” Tyler murmured, but his shaking voice betrayed him. And then he was wrapping his arms around Josh’s neck and trying to muffle the sound of crying, and Josh’s heart was sinking all over again. 

They stayed like that, silently holding on to each other, until Tyler’s breath started to even out. Josh pretended not to feel the dampness of tear stains on his shoulders. Tyler was still straddling his lap, but nothing about it was the slightest bit sexual - it was just closeness. He pulled back to look at him, and Josh couldn’t comprehend how, even now, Tyler’s eyes were staring back at him with utter trust, and something else that Josh hesitated to call love, but that he couldn’t think of any other word for. And though it was probably only minutes, it felt like they sat there for hours, with Tyler clutching gently at the front of Josh’s shirt, and Josh reaching up to stroke through Tyler’s hair with both of his hands, over and over and over. 

“Talk to me,” Josh said plainly, moving one tentative hand to rub up and down Tyler's back, while the other still stroked his forehead. 

Tyler just shook his head meekly, avoiding his gaze. 

“Please,” Josh tried again, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and Tyler sniffed, sitting up a little straighter, and taking in a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Alright,” he began. “Okay. Before I start saying this, I just want to tell you that everything I’m about to say is in the past. It’s n-not - it doesn’t apply anymore,” Tyler stuttered.

“Okay,” Josh said, trying to keep his voice interested but neutral. He felt Tyler trembling slightly, and Josh wrapped one of his hands in both of his own, holding it tightly. “You can tell me, Ty,” he went on. “It’s okay. It’s just me. M’not gonna judge you.” 

He felt Tyler’s breathing even out slightly, though he kept a death grip on Josh’s hand. 

“I used to like… um. I didn’t…” Tyler began, mumbling quietly. “When I was younger, I didn’t even, like, touch myself. I mean I did, but I felt really guilty about it, so I tried not to.” He said it all in one breath, the words tumbling out almost involuntarily. 

Josh nodded quietly, unsure of what to say. He wanted to tell Tyler that it was okay, that he didn’t think he was weird, but he really didn’t want to say the wrong thing. 

“And then later,” Tyler continued, “Uh. I guess, I decided… um.” It looked like it was physically painful for him to say this, and Josh brought a hand up to rub gentle circles into his back. He tried to tell Tyler with his eyes that it was okay, it’s okay, it's all okay. 

“I decided, at the time…” he went on slowly, before covering his face with both of his hands, and sitting back, chest drooping. “Shit,” he whispered. 

Josh found himself far less worried about whatever Tyler was about to say than he was about the fact that it seemed to be making him so unbelievably upset. He reached his hands up to run his fingers gently over Tyler’s arms, brushing his thumbs soothingly along his soft skin, up and down. 

“Tyler… Ty…” he said quietly. Josh took in Tyler's full lips and solemn, downward gaze, and he wondered briefly if they weren't going to be able to talk about things anymore. The idea made his stomach squirm. “Ty,” he began again. “I don’t want to force you to tell me anything, but you can trust, me alright? I’m your... best friend. Before anything else. Okay?” 

Tyler nodded, a single tear slipping down his cheek, and Josh's stomach constricted unpleasantly again, before Tyler took a deep breath, speaking hurriedly. 

“I decided that I wanted to wait until marriage," he said, barely audibly, still looking down as he spoke with increasing agitation. "For sex. And... uh. I’ve changed a lot since then, and I don’t want that anymore, but it was a big part of my life for a long time, I guess. Which means I haven’t ever… like…” Tyler continued, breaking off and biting his lip. “I’m like extremely-super-not-experienced.” He still wasn’t looking Josh in the eye, fiddling instead with the hem of his shirt as he pursed his lips, blushing. 

The entire sentiment struck Josh as so quintessentially _Tyler_ that he couldn’t help but smile warmly at the beautiful boy in his lap. 

“Tyler, that’s _so okay,_ ” he stressed. Josh knew it should surprise him, but the idea seemed entirely in keeping with the pensive, faithful, nervous person that he knew Tyler to be. It seemed to be a really big deal for Tyler, though, so he reached up to stroke his thumb along his slightly tearstreaked cheekbone, smiling at him in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

Tyler tugged awkwardly at his own hair. “Really?” 

“Yes,” stressed Josh. “It doesn’t matter. It’s… Tyler, it’s _fine,_ it’s _so fine._ ” 

Josh leaned forward, pressing his lips slowly and lovingly against Tyler’s, before resuming the gentle combing of his fingers through his hair. 

“There was… uh. Just… there was one… girl, in college,” Tyler began again, and Josh could see him physically struggling to speak, practically having to choke out the words as he squeezed Josh's hand. 

“Tyler, you don’t have to -” he started to whisper, but Tyler cut him off quickly. 

“No, I uh… I want to. If that’s okay. I haven’t… I don’t talk about this, ever, and I kind of need to get it out.” 

Josh nodded, signalling him to go on, but tightening his grip on Tyler’s arms. Tyler sighed, beginning again. 

“It didn’t… um.” he swallowed. “I got… overly emotional about the whole... thing, and I think she didn’t… she got freaked out, and we never...yeah.”

Tyler hadn’t been exaggerating - he had never, _ever_ talked about this kind of thing, not in the whole time that Josh had known him; so the idea that the Tyler had put himself on the line like that and been dismissed, or abandoned, made Josh’s blood boil with anger and fierce, _fierce_ loyalty. 

“Tyler,” he began firmly, choosing his words carefully. “I will never ever ask you to do something that you don’t want to do.” 

He felt Tyler shifting and sighing on his lap. “I mean, I… that’s the thing. I… you know, I _do._ Want to. It’s just… new, and stuff.” 

“But even if you never wanted to” Josh insisted earnestly, “I hope you know that it would still be alright. I would never be upset about something like that, Ty. I would be a pretty big poophead if I were.”

Tyler let his head fall against Josh’s shoulder in exasperated laughter. “I am trying to have a serious conversation with you,” he grumbled, “and you just used the word poophead.” 

“Shh, I mean it,” Josh hummed, pressing a kiss to his temple, and Tyler mumbled something incoherent about how they were both poopheads.

It was going to be okay. 

“You were scared to tell me that, huh?” Josh murmured into his hair. 

Tyler nodded against his neck, huffing out a weak breath. “Didn’t know… how you’d react,” he admitted. “Thought you might think it was stupid.” 

Now that Josh thought about it, it _was_ little hard to wrap his mind around the idea that Tyler had actually never been with anyone, if for no other reason than simply because he was just _so unbelievably attractive._ Yet the idea that Josh might actually get to be the lucky person, out of everyone in the universe, who got to _change that,_ was almost too amazing for his mind to process. 

“Nothing you have told me has ever been stupid,” Josh declared. “And you never have to be afraid to tell me anything.” 

In some corner of his brain, he was aware how totally sappy and love-stupid he sounded, but he had a year’s worth of cheesy endearments lined up on the tip of his tongue, and he couldn’t help them from pouring out now that he was allowed to say them. 

God, _he was allowed to say them._ He wanted to open his mouth and tell Tyler every incidental thought about him that had crossed his mind since they met; to act on every single physical impulse that he’d ever had, all at once. 

He settled for a gentle press of his lips to Tyler’s, even softer and sweeter than anything they’d done all day. 

_Slowly,_ he had to remind himself, as Tyler snuggled back into his shoulder. _Handle with care. You’re holding the entire world in your arms._

 

\--------

 

Josh had fallen asleep with his head in Tyler’s lap. 

_Josh had fallen asleep with his head in Tyler’s lap,_ and Tyler was pretty sure that this kind of soft, exhilarating wonder wasn’t supposed to be possible on this side of the clouds. Josh’s chest was rising and falling as he breathed quietly, and all Tyler could do to keep himself from exploding was to memorize every detail of Josh’s face while stroking the wispy hair repeatedly off his forehead, and trying not to start crying again. 

Tyler had known, even before Friday, that the _virgin_ conversation was going to have to happen eventually. He knew that it _should_ have happened _before_ he had let himself be lain down on the couch, with every inch of Josh pressing against him, but it had been too good, too _safe,_ to even imagine stopping. And even though he knew that this was _Josh,_ and not some random asshole or insensitive girl, instinctive and involuntary panic had taken over when he’d felt Josh’s hands traveling downward, into territory relatively uncharted by anyone’s hands but his own.

He wasn’t sure when that part of his life had turned from a source of pride to a source of shame, or when he had decided that it was a secret. All he knew was that it wasn’t how most guys had spent their high school years, and even now that he’d changed his mind, part of Tyler felt like he’d always be somewhat _less of a guy_ for it. But Josh’s response had somehow been so precisely what he needed to hear, so impossibly comforting and perfect, that Tyler had forgotten why he had been worried about telling him in the first place. 

And now, Josh seemed to have exhausted himself by being so perfect for so long, and had taken was snoring softly with one hand splayed out on his chest, and the other still curled awkwardly around Tyler’s waist. 

It’s not like they hadn’t done things like this before; they’d been cuddling long before Tyler had even started to process the reality of his non-platonic feelings. And as much as he wanted to claim that something about this quiet closeness was different now, there was still a satisfying familiarity to it, as if the idea that they were _more_ to each other had always been lurking just below the surface. On one hand, Tyler still couldn’t quite believe that out of everyone in the universe, he was the person who got to play with Josh Dun’s hair while his head rested on his legs. But on the other hand, it seemed absolutely ridiculous to consider the possibility of any other reality. 

He knew that this initial bliss was going to wear off eventually, and that all the insecurities were going to slowly flood back over time, or surface when he least expected them. He knew that aside from everything that he still had to figure out for himself, there would be parents and siblings and housemates and maybe even fans to deal with, and he knew that eventually, there would have to be a somewhat uncomfortable conversation with Nick. 

But he also knew, without a doubt in his mind, that Josh was going to be there for all of it. And as long as that was the case, then - at least for right now - none of the rest of it mattered.

Inch by inch, Tyler extracted his phone from his pocket, ignoring the notifications of several missed calls from his mom, and opened the camera to take a poorly-angled but perfectly candid photo of Josh, angelic and open-mouthed against his knees. He debated sending it to Mark - half because of how sheerly adorable it was, and half because he wanted confirmation that it wasn't a dream - but decided against it at the last minute. This one was for him. 

Tyler was startled out of his attempts at stealth by the distant sound of knocking from upstairs. For a brief moment of alarm, Tyler thought that Nick had come to rehearse after all - but no, he hadn’t even told Nick that they’d be here, and he would have walked straight down without knocking anyway. 

He just hoped that whoever was there would see that the front door was unlocked, and let themselves in. There was no way he was waking Josh up now, not when his breaths were turning into gentle snores, and his eyelashes kept fluttering softly against the top of his cheeks. There could be twenty record labels knocking down his door, and Tyler would probably just tell them to go away and come back when Josh wasn’t napping. 

That, if nothing else, should have told him how completely far gone he was. 

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, and in the feeling of Josh’s hair underneath his fingers, that he didn’t register the sound of footsteps on the stairs, or of someone calling his name, until his mother’s face was staring at him from the door, and he felt his breath stop in his throat. 

“Tyler?” his mother repeated, looking at the two of them with curiosity and the hint of a knowing smile in her eyes. 

The last few days had been such a haze that Tyler hadn’t even considered the eventual necessity of a conversation with his mother, let alone prepared for one. He knew that his instinct should be to cover this up, or to somehow deny the scene that she had walked in on, but the only thing that Tyler could think to do was to swiftly bring a finger to his lips, signalling her not to wake the sleeping boy on his lap. 

He scanned his mother’s face for signs of confusion or shock, but found only warmth, and if possible, triumph. 

“You weren’t picking up her phone,” she whispered, still smiling. “And I wanted to make sure you remembered about Maddy’s basketball game tonight.” 

“I’ll be there,” Tyler mouthed, and then he was smiling too. 

He stroked his hands through Josh’s hair a couple more times, just in case she still didn’t get it. _Not just my best friend,_ he tried to say, silently. _Maybe never was._

And even though she didn't say a word about it, or pull an _I told you so face,_ Tyler could tell that they were thinking the same thing.

_Finally._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yell at me on [tumblr](http://flightlessnerds-ao3.tumblr.com)


	10. You See Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, put on your Death Cab merch and grab an umbrella.

It was raining in Columbus. 

Actually, it was pouring, and it had been for several days now. It was the kind of warm, early-summer rain that reminded you what summer felt like, after a year of forgetting. The droplets were pelting onto the skylight above Tyler’s bed nonstop, and the constant flood of water down the glass kept casting blurry, wavering shadows onto the walls, and onto Josh, who was sitting shirtless on the edge of the bed and running a towel through his damp, fluffy hair. 

Tyler watched as Josh stood and stretched, the muscles of his chest pulling and shifting over his ribs.

“You’re getting water on my comforter,” he mumbled, immediately regretting it when Josh smirked and shook his head like a dog, spraying water droplets across Tyler’s hoodie. 

“Not my fault,” Josh retorted playfully, as Tyler wrestled with the towel. “ _You’re_ the one who told me to come over during a deluge! We don't even need to be at the venue for three hours but oh no, I should come hang out and get _soaked_ on the way.”

It was true. They were seeing each other almost every day now. It seemed to Tyler as if Josh spent more time at the rental house than he did at his own. But really, if you zoomed out on the last year and looked at their routines, nothing had changed very drastically in the weeks since they had become _this,_ whatever _this_ was. They still did all the same things together, just with more music, and a lot more… well, _touching._ Tyler had to admit that most of what had changed, other than Josh finally being in the band, was that every greeting and every goodbye, along with the hundreds of moments in between, were punctuated with quick kisses or reassuring brushes of their hands.

They still drove around Columbus together in Josh’s truck, but Tyler would discreetly let his hand wander to Josh’s knee as they talked about setlists, or astronomy, or nothing at all. They still pulled all-nighters on the couch and had video-game tournaments into the morning hours, and if Tyler finally lost Mario Kart because he got distracted by Josh’s tongue sticking out in concentration and he ended up throwing down the controller so they could make out like high schoolers, well, Josh wouldn’t tell anyone. 

_And really,_ Tyler thought, as Josh tugged a tank top on over his still rain-damp body, even though everything was objectively different, even though the universe had been rearranged, they were the same as they had always been when you stripped everything else away.

“Good rain music?” Josh murmured, thumbing through his phone, and Tyler was suddenly reminded of his own birthday, so many months ago, when they had lain on this very bed listening to Sigur Rós. Everything and nothing had changed. 

He sat up and reached over to take the phone from Josh’s hands, opening his music library, and finding what he was looking for right away. 

“Good rain music,” Tyler repeated, moving across the room and connecting the phone to the speaker system before pressing play. He looked to Josh for approval, and found him lying back on the bed with his eyes closed, a satisfied smile on his lips. 

“The best,” Josh affirmed. 

Tyler peeled off his now rain-spattered hoodie before joining him on the bed, shuffling so that they were shoulder to shoulder as Death Cab filled the speakers, mingling with the sound of rain hitting and running down the skylight. 

_The Atlantic was born today,_  
_And I’ll tell you how,_  
_The clouds above opened up,_  
_And let it out..._

The slow quiet piano chords were underscored by a soft roll of thunder, and Tyler was starting to feel like every other time he'd ever listened to “Transatlanticism” had somehow been in preparation for this, here, next to Josh on his bed. 

He closed his eyes. 

_The rhythm of my footsteps_  
_Crossing flatlands to your door_  
_Have been silenced forever more..._

Tyler turned over slightly, and saw that Josh had been staring at him; and although his cheeks turned slightly pink as Tyler met his gaze, he didn't look away. They were lying on their sides facing each other now, Tyler with his arms bent and tucked into his chest. 

Josh reached out a tentative hand to wordlessly stroke his cheek, gazes still locked on each other, and suddenly it was almost too much. He was lying in his bed with Josh, and he didn’t have to pretend anymore, and everything was too much. 

He felt tears clouding his vision before he even knew that he was crying. Josh just kept stroking his cheek, his movements never faltering as silent tears rolled from Tyler’s eyes. 

It happened, sometimes - this unprompted, inexplicable crying. They never spoke out loud about it, but Tyler was eternally grateful that Josh just seemed to understand, never questioning it, never forcing him to talk. He seemed to know that tears didn’t necessarily mean that Tyler was upset, that crying didn’t have to be bad, or a cause for alarm. Sometimes, it was just that: crying. 

There had been a lot of tears in the past few weeks, and if he had lived with anyone besides people like Mark and Chris and his other roommates who knew him so well, it might have seemed like he was falling apart. But the truth - which everyone around him seemed to silently appreciate - was that the dam that had broken that night in the kitchen was still breaking, and everything that he hadn’t been letting himself feel over the last year was flooding out all at once, sometimes with tears attached. 

_I need you so much closer,_  
_I need you so much closer…_

Over and over the words filled the room, until Josh was pulling Tyler in, wrapping strong arms around his back and kissing him, hard. Tyler intertwined their sock-feet, rubbing his toes along Josh’s ankles as he opened his mouth for Josh to swipe his tongue inside. _This is probably the definition of comfort,_ he thought to himself. 

When they broke apart, Tyler readjusted so that his head rested in the crook of Josh’s shoulder, and found that even though he had been in the rain fifteen minutes ago, Josh was still managing to give off a radiating warmth. He didn’t think there would ever be a day when Josh wasn’t a furnace. 

“Josh,” he mumbled, and the other boy grunted sleepily in response. “How come you’re always so warm?” 

Josh tilted his head down slightly to look at him. “You calling me hot?” 

“Unrelated,” Tyler grumbled into his chest, and Josh chuckled. 

“Guess I’m just naturally steamy,” Josh replied, and then he was yawning, stretching both arms up above his head and closing his eyes. 

“How come I feel like every time we spend any time together, it ends with you falling asleep?” Tyler wondered aloud. 

“Shhhhh,” Josh murmured, hugging a pillow to his chest. “Sleepy.” 

Tyler snorted. “You’re such a huge baby,” he teased, leaning over to press his lips into Josh’s hair, and then rolling over to lay next to him.

He knew that there was no way that he would be able to fall asleep - Josh could nap anywhere and everywhere, regardless of the hour, but Tyler could barely sleep at night, let alone in the middle of the afternoon. He closed his eyes, trying to will sleep to come, but the sound of the rain distracted him, and if anything, he just felt more awake. Casting one last look at Josh, who was breathing deeply through his mouth as he drifted off, Tyler rolled off the bed and his way downstairs, flicking the lights off as he went. 

He found Mark in the kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal as the TV announced the weather forecast softly from the living room. 

“It’s raining,” Mark helpfully pointed out. 

“Thanks,” Tyler deadpanned.

Mark chewed his cereal, moving over to sit on the couch.

“I just mean,” he continued, mouth full, “that it’s going to be a bitch to load into the venue without everything getting soaked.” 

Tyler grunted in acknowledgement - that much was true. His piano shell was already warped in places from one such rainy occasion. 

“We’ll just have to be quick,” Tyler shrugged, joining Mark on the couch and drawing his sock-feet underneath his legs. “Plus, we’ll have Michael, and Travis is coming, so he can help. And Josh,” he added, gesturing upstairs. 

“Josh is here?” Mark asked, looking up. “What am I saying,” he went on. “Josh is always here.” 

Tyler huffed out a laugh. “He’s asleep.”

He felt a smile tug at his lips at the thought of Josh sprawled out on his bed upstairs, probably snoring by now. 

“Hey,” Mark murmured suddenly, and Tyler looked up. 

“Hm?”

Mark put down his spoon, looking Tyler in the eye. 

“It's nice to see you like this, dude,” he said quietly. 

Tyler gave him a questioning look. “Like what?”

“You… know what I mean,” he replied, smirking and gesturing offhandedly. “With Josh. It's… you're happy. It's nice.” 

He opened his mouth to retort, but found that he had nothing to say. Happiness had always kind of been this fleeting, abstract concept for Tyler, and it had probably been over a decade since he could say that he was truly _happy_. But sometimes the little moments of joy could add up to something that looked a lot like happiness, and not that he was keeping score, but, crying or no crying, the tally over the last few weeks was looking pretty good. 

“Whatever,” he finally said, prodding Mark’s leg with his foot before walking into the kitchen to pour some cereal for himself too. 

 

\--------

 

Mercifully, the rain let up enough that they were able to pack up the van and unload at the venue without everything getting drenched. But even with the drizzle, Mark was still sticking a camera in their face as they loaded all their equipment into the basement of the club. _For the web series,_ he had insisted, and Tyler had let him do his thing without comment.

In the absence of any good ideas for music videos, Mark, with Tyler’s blessing, had recently started filming practically everything that went on at their shows. He wanted to start putting together little videos for their YouTube channel to accompany the release of their new album which, after several weeks of debate, Tyler was tentatively calling “Regional at Best.” 

Tyler grinned to himself as Josh speed-walked by him, rain-streaked and holding a kick-drum, as he leaned in to stick his tongue out into the camera. 

They found their way to the tiny dressing room, which was really just an unused office in a dingy hallway that led from the main room of the basement to the stage door. Tyler stripped off his hoodie, which had gotten damp for the second time that day, and hung it on the doorknob to dry. 

“Towels!” Michael announced, walking in with a stack of mismatched bath towels in his arms. 

“Dude,” Josh said, brushing past him and grabbing a towel of the top of the pile. “Where the heck did you get towels?” 

“Brought ‘em from home,” Michael shrugged, chucking one over Tyler too. “You can thank me later.” 

Tyler barely got the chance to register the weight of the towel over his shoulders before he felt a pair of warm hands snatching it from him. Josh braced Tyler against him from behind, wrapping an arm around his waist and toweling off his hair for him, ruffling it so that it puffed straight up. 

Josh flipped him around to admire his work. “Cute,” he declared, kissing Tyler’s cheek. 

“Alright, that is definitely my cue to leave,” Michael said loudly, and Josh flushed a little. 

“We’ll be out to help set up in a second, man,” Tyler laughed, but Michael just rolled his eyes, as if to say _sure you will._

Josh ran his hands up and down the sides of Tyler’s arms, in a fond, protective gesture that Tyler had come to love. It almost felt like Josh was trying to warm him up from some unknown cold, and on some level, it always worked. 

“Hey,” Josh said, and Tyler grinned in spite of himself. 

“Hey.” 

“You feeling okay about tonight?” Josh asked. Tyler still felt like he should be the one to say that, since he had done this a hundred more times than Josh had; and yet, at all the shows they’d play together so far, it had been Josh who was the one to make sure that he was ready to get onstage. 

“Mmm,” Tyler affirmed, pecking Josh on the lips; but Josh just grabbed onto the towel still around Tyler’s neck, keeping him from pulling away. They both smiled against the other’s lips, teeth clacking gently against each other. 

“Hey guys,” came a voice from the hallway, and Josh instinctively jolted back as Nick rounded the corner. 

Nick raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh,” he said blankly. “Well. Sorry about that.” 

“It’s… fine,” Tyler said hastily. “You, uh… you guys need us out there?” 

“Just looking for you for soundcheck,” Nick explained, before awkwardly backing out of the room. 

Maybe he imagined it, but Tyler thought he saw him flash a quick smile before turning the corner. In any case, he hadn’t seemed shocked, which Tyler seriously suspected had something to do with Mark. 

“Well,” said Josh, breaking their silence. “I guess that's one conversation we can check off our list.” 

Tyler huffed in agreement, before letting himself fall forward, his forehead hitting Josh’s shoulder. 

“Ready drummer boy?” he said quietly, quickly kissing the skin of Josh’s shoulder where it rested beneath his lips. He could feel Josh’s face being pulled into a smile before he even responded. 

“Ready.”

 

\-------

 

It almost never happened that a show went by without a single snag or interruption, but this one seemed to be the exception to the rule. 

The crowd had cleared out, and Tyler was taking one of his semi-ritualistic moments of quiet post-show contemplation, sitting on the side of the short stage lip and staring out over the empty venue floor. It had been a good one. There were rarely “bad” shows anymore - not when they played in Columbus, at least. Their fans had only continued to grow, particularly at the mention of a new album, and it was nights like these that made Tyler feel as if this little group of broken kids that they’d attracted was stronger than ever. 

More so than anything else, their response to “Holding On To You” tonight had given Tyler a boost of energy that felt like it could carry him into the next month. Even the most dedicated fans didn’t know the words well enough to sing a long yet, but they screamed the refrain as best they could, and went wild when Josh stood on his drum stool during the last rap section. 

Tyler had turned around just in time to see Josh swaying and clapping his hands, doing the dorkiest little dance that he had ever seen. It was almost enough to make Tyler trip over his words, and he’d had to turn away in order to keep from breaking out in laughter. _His drummer._

In the end, their enthusiasm for the song had only increased Tyler’s feeling of readiness and eagerness to show them the other new stuff. Somehow, it felt like the beginning of a new era: new album, new songs, and a new lineup, complete with one of his favorite people in the world onstage with him every night. 

Just as Tyler was starting to feel bad for sitting here congratulating himself instead of helping with the equipment breakdown, he felt someone sit down beside him.

“Hey,” said Nick, and Tyler looked up in surprise. He’d been expecting Josh. “Sick show.” 

Tyler just nodded. 

“Remember last time we played here?” Nick went on. “First time Mark saw us, wasn’t it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’d forgotten that,” Tyler said. “But yeah, you’re right.” 

Nick grinned. “Yeah. Good times, man.” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Nick’s resting his head on his arms while Tyler picked at his thumbnail. 

“It’s kind of funny how things just fell into place like that,” Nick mused, and Tyler noticed an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “You know, with Mark, and then Josh and stuff.” 

“Hmm,” Tyler grunted in agreement. 

“Especially since two years ago, it was just you and me in your basement, before we even knew what an amplifier was.” 

Tyler huffed out a laugh through his nose. It was true - Chris had taught them everything they knew about actually performing live. 

“I remember,” Nick began, “When we were still trying to figure out Garage Band, back in your parents basement.”

“So many files of random noise,” Tyler agreed. 

“Yeah,” Nick laughed. “And look at us now.” He gestured to the empty stage, vaguely in the direction of where the drums had been. 

Tyler watched him intently. He’d barely given Nick the opportunity to speak his mind about Chris’s replacement, let alone the rest of what he had witnessed in the dressing room. The last thing he wanted was for Nick to feel like he was third-wheeling - he had been there from the start, after all. Regardless of Tyler’s loyalties to Josh, he hadn’t lost sight of that fact. 

“Hey man,” said Nick, as if he could tell what Tyler had been thinking. “I have no problem with any of that. I really hope you know that.”

“I - yeah, I do,” Tyler stammered, relieved. “That’s... thanks.”

“Just - yeah, just in case you were worried about that,” Nick added. “It’s really cool, actually. He makes you… it’s like he makes you more _you,_ if that makes any sense.” 

Tyler had to crack a grin at that. “It makes perfect sense, man.” 

Nick smiled back at him. “You guys are going to be doing this together for the rest of your lives, you know.” 

“You think?” Tyler said, ducking his head as his lips quirked up in a nervous smile. 

“Absolutely,” Nick replied. “I’m so proud of what we built. Which is why,” he said, closing his eyes and sobering somewhat, “this is so fucking hard.” 

Tyler raised an eyebrow. “What’s hard?” 

He watched as Nick straightened, taking in a breath. 

“Tyler, it amazes me every day to see what this band has become,” he began. “It’s really made me do some soul-searching, you know? And I’m so sure that you and Josh are going to make it to the top, and that these songs and these fans are going to be your life’s work.” 

Tyler’s heart was starting to quicken, and a quiet dread was seeping into his gut from all sides. He’d heard this all before. But that couldn’t be what Nick was saying, was it? This couldn’t be happening to him again so soon. 

“I have to back out,” Nick said simply, his tone resigned and cautious at the same time. Tyler felt every organ in his chest drop a few inches as the dread was churned into bile. 

“Oh,” was all he could manage.

“I have to really start considering what I want from the future,” Nick went on. “And what kind of career is going to support the life I want, you know? And I think I’ve been trying to talk myself out of facing the reality, but I know that I have to find something more stable.” 

He finished his sentence in one breath, before looking over at Tyler, as if expecting him to detonate at any minute.

“Okay,” Tyler said slowly, staring straight across the empty basement at nothing in particular. “Well, I wish you the best.”

“I’m not just gonna up and leave tomorrow,” Nick said quickly. “I wouldn’t do that. Think of this as like… my two week notice.”

Tyler scoffed loudly, his placid exterior crumbling all at once. “Your two week notice? This isn’t freaking Burger King, Nick.” 

Nick laughed softly at that, but Tyler didn’t let his expression soften in the slightest. This was not a joke. 

“I wanted to tell you a little bit in advance,” Nick murmured. “And I just wanted to play one more good show before… yeah. I have to be done at the beginning of June. I’ll play out all the gigs until then, and I’ll be there for the Newport show at the end of the month, but I’ve gotta be gone by June 5th. I’m taking summer classes,” he explained hurriedly. “Trying to, you know… make up…”

“For lost time?” Tyler said icily. 

Nick sighed. “That’s… not what I meant, Tyler. I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Okay,” he said.

“Tyler, I'm… serious. This was the most fun two years of my life, but I have to do what's best for me right now.” 

“Okay,” Tyler repeated blankly. “It’s okay Nick. I’m fine. I’m going to go see if I can help load up.” And with that, he pushed up off his thighs and made his way across the floor and all the way out the side hallway. He ignored Nick’s quiet pleas from behind him, walking head down, until he was finally bursting through the stage door and out into the rain. 

He knew that Josh was inside somewhere, and that the logical thing to do would be to go to him, but he just couldn't bring himself to interact with anyone else. 

Tyler rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, holding in a breath as he let the rain drench him. He couldn’t just run into Josh’s arms like a freaking crybaby every time something happened, because at the rate things were going, there would probably come a day when he didn’t have anyone to run to. He’d spent so much time with people these past few months, let alone these last couple weeks with Josh, that he’d almost forgotten what it had taken him so long to learn - It was easier to be alone. 

He found himself barking out a humorless laugh at his own stupidity. The idea that only ten minutes ago, he had let himself think that maybe things were finally coming together - for him, for the band - seemed preposterous. Tyler couldn't believe that he'd let himself be so shortsighted. Chris leaving was one thing - he'd given a solid and pragmatic reason, and he was in a different stage of life from the rest of them anyway. But if Nick, who he'd known since _high school,_ could just up and abandon twenty one pilots like that, then what was stopping people like Michael and Mark from doing the same? What was stopping Josh? 

The realization felt like a punch to the chest. Josh could leave just as easily as any of the rest of them. Because what claim did Tyler hold on him, really? On any of them? No matter what they did, or what Tyler felt, in name, he was no more than Josh’s bandmate, and Nick and Chris had both proven the triviality of that title. 

He wasn’t even Josh’s _boyfriend._

When all was said and done, he could do nothing, furnish no claims of fidelity or commitment, if and when Josh decided to go. 

Acting on impulse, Tyler lashed out with his arm, slamming a fist against the wet brick wall of the club, regretting it a couple seconds later when the searing pain started to register in his knuckles. Rain water diluted the blood running off his hand, and Tyler felt himself slowly growing sick to his stomach from the chilling familiarity of red. 

He slid down the side of the building, bricks scraping at his back as his shirt rode up. He was already writing lyrics in his head, a tiny elegy on a reverberating loop: 

_I’m two_  
_Be gone_  
_You see rain_

\-----

Josh had finished changing and packing up ten minutes ago, but there was still no sign of Tyler anywhere near the dressing room. He'd poked his head into the upstairs of the club briefly to look for him, but ended up chatting and taking pictures with a couple fans who had stuck around, and still no Tyler in sight. 

He finally gave up, deciding that he must be in the car already; but as he made his way back through the dingy hallway that led to the stage door, he heard his name being called repeatedly. He craned his neck to see over the throng of people, only to see none other than Colin Rigsby waving at him from the end of the hallway. 

Josh felt a chill go down his spine - was Tim here? Was all of House of Heroes? He silently hoped that wherever they were, they hadn’t encountered Tyler. 

“Relax, bro,” Colin said, voicing Josh’s thoughts as he approached him, smiling warmly. “It’s just me.” 

Josh folded his arms, nodding silently and leaning against the wall of the hallway. He’d seen Colin a handful of times since he’d left House of Heroes in October - it was hard not to, they shared too many mutual friends - but they’d always greeted each other in awkward silence, or not at all. 

“That was one of the coolest shows I’ve ever seen,” Colin enthused, eyes wide. “I’m not kidding you, Joshua. I never got the hype about this band from what Tim showed me, but now I completely understand.” 

Though he felt himself bristling at the idea of Tim having anything to do with showing _anyone_ twenty one pilots music, Josh recognized that Colin was making an effort at reconciliation, and put on as genuine a smile as he could. 

“Thanks dude,” he said. “Means a lot.” 

“Like, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be coming to a lot more of your shows now,” Colin went on. “I mean it, man. Seeing you guys up there doing that - it’s… fucking inspiring.” 

Josh smiled, more sincerely this time. 

“I appreciate that, Colin.” 

A somewhat awkward silence settled in, and they were jostled slightly as several guys brushed past them, loading out equipment. He caught Mark’s eye, who gave him a quizzical look, but Josh wasn’t sure whether that was because he recognized Colin, or because Josh was leaning against a wall and talking to a guy with tattoos and a tanktop who wasn’t Tyler. 

“We should get the bands together sometime,” he heard Colin saying. “Play a joint gig.” 

Josh raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Too much too soon, got it,” Colin smiled, holding his hands up in mock surrender. 

“I mean…” Josh began, but he broke off, shaking his head. “That’s really up to Tyler anyway, but I don’t know, Colin. Tim, he’s... said some pretty shitty things about Tyler in the past. I’m kind of hesitant to…” _to let that dickbag anywhere near him_ , Josh finished silently. “Especially now that… especially… now.” 

“I get it,” Colin repeated, eyes warm, and Josh was struck with how truly nice of a guy he really was. He was fairly confident that the idea of a peace offering did not come from Tim, and he hoped that Colin could sense that, despite his protective instinct, Josh was grateful. 

“But thanks, man,” Josh finally sighed, clapping a hand on Colin’s bony shoulder. “It means a lot that you came.” 

“It means a lot to be here, honestly,” Colin said, shaking his head. “It's like… I don't know. It took watching you up there, with _him_ , to make me realize that that’s where you were supposed to be all along. 

Josh just stared, taken aback by his candid insight.

“It's amazing, man,” Colin added. “Seeing you figure it out like this. Gives a guy hope.”

And then, to his surprise, Colin wrapped an arm around him, squeezing him in a quick side-hug before pushing open the stage door through which Mark and the other guys had just left. If possible, it was raining even harder now than it had been earlier in the day, and the ground glittered with the reflection of streetlamps as rivulets of water moved towards the drain at the side of the building. 

“You got an umbrella?” Colin chuckled. 

“Nope,” Josh replied, clapping him on the back. “Gonna have to run for it, man.” 

Josh poked his head out of the door to make watch Colin leave, and his eyes fell immediately on a soaking wet figure crouched against the building. With a sudden tremor of dread, Josh realized that it was Tyler. 

“I’ll go out the front,” Colin said quickly, eyes trained cautiously on Tyler. He gave Josh’s arm a final squeeze, before ducking back into the shelter of the building. 

Josh felt his heart beating out of his chest as the rain splattered in through the open doorway. 

“Tyler!” he called, raising his voice over the sound of water splattering on the pavement. “C’mon, come inside!” 

The huddled form on the ground gave no response.

 _Screw it,_ Josh thought, charging forward into the downpour and across to the brick wall. As he grew nearer, he saw that Tyler had both hands fisted in his hair, staring straight forward with an unsettlingly placid face as he let himself get soaked. 

“Tyler,” Josh breathed, crouching down to face him and placing a hand on each of his knees. He didn’t flinch away, Josh noticed, but he didn’t acknowledge the contact either. “What happened?” 

Still, Tyler remained absolutely expressionless, his stony gaze locked somewhere to the right of Josh’s feet. 

“Fuck, are you _bleeding?_ ” Josh exclaimed suddenly, only now seeing that the knuckles on Tyler’s left hand were bruised and split open in places. He reached out to get a closer look, but Tyler yanked himself away, turning his body back towards the wall. 

“Tyler,” Josh pled again quietly, and something about the tender desperation of his tone must have sparked a reaction in him, because slowly, almost as if Josh was watching it happen in stop-frame motion, Tyler was standing up. 

Every part of Josh wanted to reach out and wrap his arms around the soaked and disheveled boy in front of him, but some instinct in a far corner of his mind told him to wait. 

“Nick…” Tyler began, looking as if uttering the words without completely losing it was taking every ounce of energy he had, “...quit.” 

Josh stood stock still in disbelief, rain soaking every inch of his body as incredulous rage surged in his stomach. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“I'm… _fucking… SERIOUS_ ,” Tyler said in a strained whisper, punctuating each word with a hard, soggy kick to the brick wall, and adding a few more for good measure. Josh knew that there was no way he wasn't feeling the impact of the brick through his mesh sneakers, but he also knew that that was probably part of the point. 

“Stop,” Josh whispered, reaching out to thread an arm under each of Tyler’s shoulders, pulling him away from the wall, and Tyler fought against him, making Josh double his grip. “Stop, Tyler. You’re… you’re okay.” 

He wasn’t okay, and Josh knew that he wasn’t, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

“Fuck, _FUCK,_ ” Tyler was croaking, still wriggling in Josh’s grasp. 

Josh felt his own resolve starting to strain. “ _Please,_ Tyler,” he pled. “Hurt me, I don’t care. But stop hurting yourself, God, _please._ ” 

Tyler stilled at that, making a somewhat strangled noise as his fists fell against Josh’s chest in a single, solid thud. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt - just hard enough to ground them both, in reality and in each other. 

“It’s just,” Tyler sighed, as if he were picking up a conversation from the middle of a sentence. “It’s just that he... started this thing with us.” 

“I know,” Josh replied. “He was there from the beginning.” 

“No,” Tyler said slowly. “I mean, yes… that also. But I mean, he started this… this new era with us, or whatever you want to call it…” he tugged at his hair, toeing angrily at the ground. “It’s just a weird time to be calling it quits, you know?” 

Josh shrugged, sniffing. “Maybe, yeah.” 

“Do you think…” Tyler mumbled, turning and looking at Josh with an unreadable expression. “that it’s because of us?” 

“Us-us?” Josh asked quietly, and Tyler nodded. Josh felt his stomach churning again. “Did he say it was?” 

Tyler mirrored his shrug. “No.” 

It was hard to distinguish the tears from the raindrops on Tyler’s face, but something about the narrowness of his eyes, something about the tight contortion of his mouth, told Josh that they were still falling. 

He watched in silence as Tyler took a deep, shuddering breath. 

“People keep leaving,” he said, barely audibly. “And I think I’m pushing them away.” 

“I’m not leaving,” Josh replied quickly and firmly. 

“Okay.” 

“I’m not, Ty,” he pressed, stepping closer, enough to brush their hands together. Josh shivered as he felt Tyler’s rain-slick fingers gently trailing along the side of his hand, up and down, up and down.

Finally, Tyler spoke quickly, as if he only had a few seconds to get his words out.

“Please kiss me,” he said, and Josh was moving towards him before he even knew what his legs were doing, taking his head in his hands and pressing his mouth firmly to Tyler’s. Their lips were wet and cold from the rain, and Tyler’s hands still shook slightly where they were clenched against Josh’s chest, but they generated a heat all of their own, burning silently between their mouths as their lips moved together again, and again. 

Josh was struck, even now, with how much of an _experience_ it was to kiss this boy. No matter how many times he did it, no two kisses were the same, and his intention was different every time. 

And when Tyler finally pulled back, as ideal as it would have been to say that kissing each other could make the rest of it disappear, Josh could still feel the cold hostility and quiet anger radiating from Tyler’s rigid form. 

“That’s important,” Tyler said quietly, sniffing and looking away. “What you said before.”

“Which part?” Josh asked. 

Tyler made a noncommittal shrug, still not meeting Josh’s gaze. “The part about not hurting yourself, and…” he trailed off, looking up at Josh with wide eyes, waterlogged from tears and rain. “I’m not going to - I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, eyes dark and resolute. 

“I know that, Tyler,” Josh breathed, resisting the urge to grip his hand. “You don’t have to tell me that. I know.” 

Tyler nodded, but the motion quickly turned to a swift and repeated shake of his head. 

“I can’t even wrap my head around the idea of trying to find another bassist,” Tyler murmured in frustration. 

“So we make bass tracks!” Josh insisted. “You already have them for most of the old songs anyway. And we'll make them for the new ones.”

“Yeah,” Tyler said, shoulders hunching up around his neck. 

“And besides,” Josh continued earnestly. “It won’t just be us. Maybe onstage it will, but it will still be Mark and Michael and anyone else we want to bring to shows or on the road. And we have some of the most loyal fans in Ohio, who are still part of all of this. And that isn’t even counting all the people in your life who love you who have nothing to do with this band, and who are never going to leave you.” 

Several degrees of tension seemed to leave Tyler’s body as he let out a tired breath, shoulders slumping down. 

“Tyler,” Josh whispered. 

“Hmm.”

“I’m not going to leave you.” He was going to keep saying it for the rest of time if he had to. 

Tyler made no response. 

“Do you believe me?” Josh asked. 

He watched Tyler tilt his head back, eyes closed as rain continued to wash over him, before tilting his head forward and looking Josh in the eye.

“I’m trying to.” 

 

\---------- 

 

Mark was leaning against the van when they approached, huddling under an umbrella that he must have procured from somewhere inside. 

“What the heck, guys? I’ve been… waiting…” He trailed off, eyes darting to Tyler’s bruised knuckles and then to his puffy eyes, before looking at Josh for an explanation. 

“Nick is leaving the band,” Josh muttered quietly as he passed Mark, hoping to avoid a scene. 

“What the hell?” Mark yelped, looking from Josh to Tyler, as if for confirmation that it was true. “But that’s - he can’t do that. That just leaves the two of you,” he spluttered. 

“Thanks Mark, I really appreciate the solidarity,” Tyler said animatedly, his voice laced with acidity. Mark opened his mouth to defend himself, but Josh gave him a look that said _drop it._

“I’ll drive,” Tyler snapped suddenly, throwing out an arm to keep Josh from climbing into the driver’s seat. 

He exchanged another look with Mark. 

“Tyler-” 

“Keys,” Tyler said quietly, holding out his hand to Josh. Their fingers brushed as he handed them over, and Josh wanted so badly to take his hand. But then Tyler was pulling away from him to climb into the van, and Josh was forced to let the moment go, taking his place in the back seat. 

The majority of the drive was made in complete silence, as Tyler stared straight ahead over the steering wheel. The tension was so thick that Josh couldn’t even bring himself to mention that Tyler was driving straight for the rental house when he was supposed to be taking Josh to his apartment first. 

Just as they were pulling off the highway, he saw Mark open his camera, quietly aiming the lens in Tyler’s direction. 

Josh opened his mouth to tell him that this might not be the best time to get footage, but Mark just shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and Josh kept his mouth shut. He never got any credit for it, but Mark could always read the room, always knew when something was happening, or about to happen. As usual, he was right. 

“There are two things I never want to be while onstage,” Tyler said suddenly, still looking straight over the steering wheel as Mark subtly jumped into action, angling the camera at his face. “And that’s bored, and nervous. Boredom is all about _me,_ and nervousness is all about… wanting _them_ to love _me._ But if it’s about others, there’s just no room for those two things. It creates this. shameless fearlessness. And if you have a whole room of people like that…” He paused, eyes meeting Josh’s in the rearview mirror. “That’s a good show.”

Mark closed the camera wordlessly, leaning back in the seat and smiling. No one spoke as Tyler rolled to a stop at the side of the road, hands still gripping the steering wheel. 

“I think we can do this,” he said to no one in particular, or maybe to himself, before swiveling to face the other two. 

Mark raised his hand tentatively. “For what it’s worth,” he chimed in, “so do I.” 

Josh didn’t even realize that he’d been digging his fingers into the seat until he felt himself relax, warmth spreading through his body as a smile tugged at his face. Only now did he register that it had stopped raining. 

He leaned forward between the two front seats, clapping a hand on each of his friends’ shoulders. 

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tyler on FOH tower voice* 
> 
> _are you still with me?_


	11. Every Breath We Make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9,000 WORDS of 2011 goodness to quench your hungry souls! Thank you for waiting. Take it slow.
> 
> Also, small content warning for biphobia, which feels like it should be fucking illegal on literal bisexuality awareness day, but hey, I'm aware of us, frens <3 stay bi, stay street

The sun had just barely started to inch its way above the horizon when the roadtrip SUV pulled up in front of Josh’s apartment, with Tyler in the driver’s seat. 

Today, they were driving to Kentucky. Michael had left even earlier with the van of equipment, and the other three of them were getting up at the crack of dawn in order to make it to their 11 a.m. soundcheck on the side-side- _side_ stage. They definitely weren’t the big shots at this festival, but nevertheless, it was a _festival,_ and they were eager to take any gig that would expose them to new people, especially ones outside of Ohio. 

Mark swung himself out of the passenger seat, stumbling a little with his tiredness. 

“How,” he grumbled, brushing past Josh to go pop the trunk, “are you looking so awake right now?

Tyler appeared around the side of the car, looking slightly more alert than Mark, but not by much. 

“He probably barely slept in the first place,” Tyler said, eyes twinkling as he looked at Josh.

It was true, of course; they’d spent so long waiting for this trip, so long planning and organizing the day ahead of them, that Josh had started to feel paralyzed with anticipation of things going wrong somehow. Rationally, he knew that the worst that could happen would be rain, or not much of a crowd, and they could get past that. But it was the first festival he’d played with anyone other than House of Heroes, and something about that made it feel like much more than just a road trip. 

_Plus,_ Josh realized, this felt like their first _big_ show without Nick. To be fair, it was not likely that most of their festival audience would even know the difference, but to Josh, something about going on the road with just him and Tyler as the band made it all feel very suddenly real.

With most of the instruments and equipment already loaded into the van, the trunk of the SUV was just a mess of tents, sleeping bags, and hastily packed duffels. Josh hoisted his own backpack onto the pile, closing the hatch and moving to open one of the back doors, but he felt a hand close around his arm, holding him back. 

“Hey, wait… cm’ere for a sec,” Tyler said quietly, pulling Josh around the side of the car by the wrist as Mark climbed into the passenger seat. Even though his face was still heavy with sleep, there was an excited glint in Tyler’s eye as a smile teased at his lips. 

He pulled something out from behind his back and held it out to Josh, face brimming with glee. Even in the dim light of dawn, Josh could make out the words “twenty one pilots,” stamped over and over again along the top of the CD. 

Josh wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Tyler looking so proud of himself, but he was confident that his expression needed to be consecrated as one of the seven wonders of the world: this, Tyler’s enormous grin, in all it’s crooked glory, as he held the first physical copy of “Regional at Best” out to Josh like it was the greatest thing he’d ever seen.

“I know it’s just one copy, and it’s not technically released until July,” Tyler started, his voice lilting and growing higher with his excitement, “but _look,_ Jishwa. It’s real.”

He held it out for Josh to take, and Josh tried to savor this moment of genuine giddy excitement from Tyler, which was so rarely visible under his many layers of feigned indifference or cautious insecurity. 

“Second album,” said Josh, grinning. “Not too shabby.” 

“Well, yeah, but this is different,” Tyler said immediately, and Josh raised an eyebrow. 

“Different how?” 

Tyler shrugged. “The first album was like… all me. I did most of it alone, and then Nick and Chris kind of made it come to life later, but I… like…” he paused, face grown suddenly serious, and he put a hand on Josh’s shoulder, squeezing firmly. 

“I was so alone when I wrote those songs, Josh,” he went on quietly. “I mean, I was going to college and seeing people every day, and I was surrounded by people, but… I was alone. And these songs are different. They’re part of something that… that I get to share with other people now, and it feels… different. Good different.” 

Josh grinned, and Tyler’s lips quirked up as well, although his expression remained serious. 

“And Josh,” he continued, holding up the CD again. “I know that you’re not on here that much -“ 

“Tyler, I’ve told you that it doesn’t -“ 

“No, listen,” Tyler shushed him, shoulders slumping pleadingly. “Please, let me say this.” 

Josh just nodded.

Tyler trailed his hand down the side of Josh’s arm, until he caught Josh’s fingers in his own, tangling them together and holding tightly. 

“I don’t know exactly what will come next for twenty one pilots, or if we’ll ever get where we want to,” he said. “But whether we’re world famous in two years or whether we’re still playing dumps in Ohio when we’re eighty, I just think… I want…” he broke off, sounding frustrated with the English language. “You’re gonna be in it. That’s what I’m trying to say. It’s going to be you and me.” 

“Yeah,” Josh agreed immediately, feeling his heart bursting out of his chest. “I know.” 

Tyler grinned, leaning forward to press their lips together gently, fingers still entwined, before Mark’s still-sleepy voice came loudly from the other side of the car. 

“Will you two idiots save that for a reasonable hour of the day, please?” he snapped, and they parted, rolling their eyes. 

“I’ll start out driving,” Tyler chirped, hauling himself into the driver’s seat. Mark raised an eyebrow at his energy level, but didn’t complain - no one else wanted to drive at 4:00 in the morning. 

Josh spread out in the back, letting his head loll against the window as the effects of his sleepless night finally started to register in his body. 

“Okay,” he heard Tyler say as he started the ignition. “Kentucky. Let's go.”

“Let's go!” Mark repeated groggily, and Josh managed a fond smile, directed at no one in particular. 

“And hey,” Tyler added, turning to face Josh with eyes like warm gold. “Get some sleep.” 

 

\--------

 

As it turned out, Tyler was the one who ended up doing most of the sleeping on the way to Lexington. Josh had dozed off initially, but despite his exhaustion, he still found himself irreparably awake. When he’d started to see Tyler yawning and slumping in the driver’s seat, he’d insisted that they pull over, and after a short stop for coffee, Josh was behind the wheel. 

“Say something about where we’re going,” Josh heard Mark say, and turned his head to see a camera pointed in his face. 

“Uh,” Josh began. Tyler was usually the one to do all the talking in front of Mark’s camera. “We’re... “ he glanced at the GPS on the dashboard. “...13.2 miles away from Ichthus Festival. Uh. We’re in… Kentucky. And uh… we left four hours ago. At four in the morning,” he went on, looking in the rearview mirror to ensure that his voice hadn’t woken Tyler up. 

Mark inclined his head quickly, signalling him to go on. 

“I slept for two hours, and then took over driving - Tyler drove first… so... we’re going to, ah…”

He flicked his eyes up again, shifting his gaze between the road and the reflection of Tyler’s form curled up in the backseat, face squished up slightly where it rested on his arms. Josh couldn't get enough of this sight; it was so very rare that he got to glimpse Tyler in the midst of sleep. Almost always, Josh was the one to doze off and wake up with Tyler looking at him, tentatively playing with his hair… and if it wouldn't mean the having to pull the car over and stopping their progress, Josh would want nothing more than to climb into the backseat and do the same as Tyler slept.

“We stopped through McDonalds,” he continued, holding up his coffee cup. Is this what Mark wanted him to talk about? “And, uh, I'm gonna rely on this to last me for awhile, before I need…some more energy.”

He swore to himself that the next chance he got, the next time he ever caught Tyler in a moment of utter serenity like this, he would lie down behind him and run his fingers through the long hairs at the crown of his head. He wanted to watch Tyler’s face for hours, and take in his slack, peaceful features, in one of these rare moments when he wasn't attempting to mold them into anything else. He wanted to kiss him awake.

“Eyes on the road, Joshy boy,” Mark chuckled, snapping his camera shut with one hand. 

Josh just smiled, shrugging at his own indulgent imagination. When did he get like this?

The sun was beginning to rise above the tree line now, and the glare through the side window was almost enough to blind Josh as he propelled them further and further south. But even as the sun inched up from the horizon, they were barreling forwards, outrunning the progress of the glare; and it felt almost like the SUV could race the sun around the earth, because even though they were tired, it was morning, it was summer, and even on this unremarkable strip of rural Kentucky highway, it felt to Josh like they were larger than life. Other than drumming, or kissing Tyler, it might have been more powerful than anything he’d ever felt. 

He was suddenly overwhelmingly grateful for Mark and his camera, as he realized all at once that this was the kind of thing that he was going to want to look back on, and that he might someday be desperate to feel again.

“But, yeah,” he finished, even though he was pretty sure Mark had stopped recording. “It’s gonna be a great day… and a great weekend.” 

The signs for Wilmore started showing up pretty soon after that, and before long, they were pulling into the state fairgrounds that were being used for the festival. After navigating a sea of parked cars, tents, and clueless festival staff, they finally made it to Michael’s van, which was idling behind the small stage where they would be playing that night. 

“I thought you were gonna set up camp?” Michael said, pushing off the bumper of the van to greet Josh as soon as he stepped out of the driver’s seat. 

“Too crowded over there,” Josh replied, stretching. “Gonna do it later. Plus,” he added, checking his watch. “Soundcheck is in half an hour, and we need to set up.” 

Tyler grunted affirmatively, sliding out of the backseat. 

“Here, sleepy,” Michael chuckled, passing an amp to Tyler, who sagged briefly under its weight before righting himself. He grumbled as he passed Josh, and Michael rolled his eyes, handing Josh a speaker too. 

Once again, Josh was struck with how monumentally different this was from his time touring with House of Heroes. No animosity, no competition, just work and music and exhaustion and affection, in all its different forms. And even though he’d been a little more willing to let go of his grudge since seeing Colin, he was finding that this, touring with these three guys, made every other kind of touring that he’d ever done seem insignificant. 

Tyler seemed to be thinking something similar as he passed by Josh on the way to the stage area. 

“This is good,” he murmured, brushing a hand against Josh’s elbow in a quiet mark of fondness. Josh knew that it had to be like that, now that they were standing exposed in the middle of the fairground - and he didn't mind. Tyler was all his when no one was watching. 

He saw Michael step up to converse with a member of the festival staff who’d wandered up to their vehicles.

“You guys…” he said slowly, scanning down his clipboard before looking back up at them. “Which band are you?” 

“We’re twenty one pilots,” Michael responded without hesitation, and Josh grinned. 

“See?” he said, turning to Tyler. “It’s not really just the two of us.” 

 

\--------

 

By late afternoon, Tyler was feeling like all they had done for the last several hours was stand around. After soundcheck they’d had to get registered, followed by a giant cookout lunch where they got to meet the other bands, and then it had been a constant cycle of standing around the tent and watching other people soundcheck. Their set that night would be right in the middle of the lineup, meaning that they’d probably be stuck watching until at least midnight - but Tyler was always adamant about staying for the other bands’ sets, especially given the number of occasions when, in the reverse situations, those other bands had been his only crowd. 

Finally, it had reached the point where they were up next. Michael was out front already, making sure that the sound people had their shit together, so it was just the three of them, him, Josh, and Mark, waiting side stage - or just outside the tent, in this case - while the previous band played. 

“So ‘Ode to Sleep,’” Josh started, nervously reviewing the setlist for what felt to Tyler like the hundredth time. 

“‘Ode to Sleep,’” Tyler repeated, humoring him fondly, “and then ‘Isle of Flightless Birds…’” He enumerated the order, Josh nodding at the mention of each song. Tyler knew that these moments, right before shows, were when Josh’s more vulnerable side tended to make an appearance. Most of the rest of the time, it was easy to look no further than Josh’s composed exterior and easy charm, but this, the way he tripped over his words and repeated himself, fidgeting with his drumsticks almost imperceptibly, reminded Tyler of his earliest interactions with Josh, before they had fallen into this comfortable and persistent closeness. Even now, something about Josh’s nerves kept Tyler feeling level-headed and present, reminding him that every show was important. 

A sudden rustle of movement caused Tyler to stop his list short, turning open-mouthed to see a longhaired guy in a festival-staff polo and painfully incongruous bowtie, standing enthusiastically in front of them. 

“Hey,” said the guy, holding out a fistful of what seemed to be small, pink stickers, and giving one to all three of them. “Welcome, brothers, to this holy musical ground!” 

The sticker was in the shape of the fish - the _Ichthus_ \- after which the festival was named. 

“Thanks,” he heard Josh say, looking as if he were trying to hold in a snort of laughter as he affixed the Ichthus to the thigh of his jeans. Tyler just politely pocketed his, but neither Josh nor the guy seemed to notice. 

It wasn’t exactly that he was opposed to walking out there with the symbol attached to him; but something about the way the guy had deemed this _holy ground_ had made Tyler squirm involuntarily. 

Though he’d tried his best to stuff it down, he’d been having misgivings about this festival almost from the start. They’d played festivals before, and they’d definitely played primarily religious venues before, but never all in one go. In the end, it had been Josh who’d had to go to great lengths to convince him to go through with it. Even though Tyler had initially booked them the slot, he’d found himself getting jittery about the whole affair around two weeks ago, when they were trying to put together a setlist, and he had started to get the feeling that the words to the songs he’d written alone in his basement, the silent and convoluted prayers that his whole fanbase had come to share, would seem far too _spastic_ or _emo_ for the rest of the Christian music crowd. 

But Josh - who’d really only _ever_ played that crowd - had silenced his worries at every juncture, helping him to scrap things that were too risky - “Addict” and “Kitchen Sink” had been taken off early, reserved, as Josh put it, for _“people who would get it”_ ; but “Holding On To You,” “Isle of Flightless Birds,” and “Trees” were all deemed suitable. And when Tyler had started to get antsy about not having any crowd, Josh had surprised him by reaching out online to drum up an interest among their supporters to the south. When Tyler had woken up one day to a barrage of support in the form of tweets from Kentucky-based fans, and seen that Josh had replied graciously to almost every one on the band account, he had nearly cried. 

And yet, Tyler still hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell Josh about the other doubts that had been clouding his brain as the festival drew nearer, and especially now that it was here. As supportive as their fans seemed to be, online and at shows, it wasn't as if he and Josh were were _out to them_ \- they hadn’t even considered that possibility for a moment. Tyler had heard enough about Josh’s experiences with House of Heroes to know how very badly that could go, especially somewhere like Kentucky, where the blood of God ran thicker than water; and a Christian music festival seemed to provide just another layer of insecurity. And while he had worked hard to reconcile his personal brand of faith with his undeniable feelings for Josh, he wasn't sure that everyone else would be able to adapt quite as easily. 

He loved his fans more than anything, and a part of him truly wanted to believe that the people who would be standing there in the tent to hear _them_ wouldn’t have cared either way. But more and more, Tyler was starting to be paranoid that people could just somehow… _intuit_ that he wasn’t straight. 

Not that Tyler had given much thought to what he was. The extent of his knowledge was that Josh was… _Josh,_ and Josh was a guy, which meant Tyler wasn’t straight. But something about the word _gay_ seemed inaccurate, and something about _bi_ seemed strange and almost dirty in his mouth, like a foreign and unpleasant taste on his tongue. Josh was bi, he knew. It was a word that Tyler had only read before, until one day he had heard Josh use it in reference to himself, as casually as if he were saying he was “brunet,” or “hungry.” Tyler had tensed up immediately, so much so that he knew that Josh couldn’t have missed it; but Josh had never asked him to talk about that kind of thing, ever. He knew that Josh trusted him not to use him to figure things out and then toss him away. . 

And despite everything else, that was one thing of which Tyler was absolutely sure. Josh was anything but an experiment. Kissing him, breathing him in, was not _trial and error,_ or _just for fun_ \- not even close. This, with him, was the opposite of the experiment;it was the conclusion. And rather than raising a question, it seemed to be providing an answer. 

And yet, words like _that_ \- the ones Josh seemed to be able to use so effortlessly - felt out-of-bounds, as if Tyler would somehow be chastised for even uttering them. They felt like something that existed theoretically, or maybe for other people, but that he wasn’t supposed to be able to apply to himself. Even though his mother had proven her acceptance, and even though people like Pastor Dave or the rest of their church friends hadn’t necessarily voiced anything _bad_ about this subject, they never used _those_ kinds of words, either - the ones he used to come across on the internet on late nights in college, before clearing his browser history and falling asleep guilty. 

He knew that a long time ago, a girl from Worthington Christian had proclaimed to the whole ninth-grade class that she was bisexual, and that the only notable upshot of the incident was that his basketball friends started laughingly throwing around the words _slut_ and _attention-seeker,_ until the whole thing seemed to die down and fade away. Still, after all these years, the whole affair had left a bad taste in Tyler’s mouth, particularly from the idea that being… _that…_ meant that you were supposed to want to sleep with everybody… and that was almost comedically untrue of Tyler. But still, there was the lingering worry that the people in his life - even the ones who already knew about him and Josh - would see him differently if he started calling himself by names that simply weren’t in the vocabulary of most midwestern conservative christian households. 

So, he swallowed the titles - at least the ones that would apply to him alone. Yet there was one thing, one aspect of this new territory that Tyler found himself desperate to name. He knew that it didn’t matter, not really; but even though it sounded dumb to say aloud, and even though there was a part of him that still couldn’t fathom the words _Josh_ and _boyfriend_ into the same sentence, Tyler constantly had to resist the urge to blurt the word out to Josh in the middle of dinner, or Mario Kart, or kissing… It was a conversation that he’d wanted to start a hundred different times, but always ended up aborting because it just seemed so _trivial_ in comparison to the other things they talked about in rehearsals, or in the car, or curled around each other late at night. But those were things that couples did, weren’t they? Tyler had watched all his friends go through this over the years, and even though the whole concept of _dating_ seemed like such a narrow attempt to encompass his and Josh’s relationship, he was pretty sure that’s what this kind of constant and hungry togetherness would look like to the average eye.

Nevertheless, Tyler never wanted to make it seem to Josh like he wasn’t completely and entirely satisfied with how things were. It would be true and perfect and genuine to simply say that they were bandmates who kissed a lot, and who happened to need each other like air. But that wasn’t exactly a concise title for family dinners, and the shallow and corny part of Tyler, the one that was forced to try to use the English language to describe what Josh was to him, wanted to know whether _that_ word, the one that meant ownership and commitment and _love,_ was allowed. 

“What are you thinking about?” Josh said quietly, and Tyler snapped his head up to see Josh looking at him with a small smile, head cocked to one side. He realized that he must have been zoning out. 

“Stuff,” he replied blankly, and Josh nodded, pursing his lips and huffing out a breath through his nose. 

_This,_ Tyler realized with a jolt, _would be the perfect time to ask._ If something went terribly wrong, they would just be able to go out in front of the crowd and forget about it, getting lost enough in the music and in each other that the whole thing would blow over before they even got offstage. 

Before Tyler could begin to formulate the question in his mind, though, he was interrupted from his thoughts by the sudden presence of someone behind them. 

“Tyler?” said a quiet, unfamiliar, female voice. He and Josh turned around at the same time to see two kids, maybe sixteen or seventeen, standing behind them with wide eyes. The one who had spoken was a timid looking girl, clad in a yellow twenty one pilots shirt, hovering back slightly by her friend, who was a tall, serious looking boy. The girl was fair skinned and slightly heavy-set, with two dark french braids, and a flannel shirt tied around her waist; and as much as he fought the urge to let his eyes wander there, Tyler’s gaze automatically traveled to the orderly rows of red and white ridges that lined the backs of her forearms, standing out from her skin. 

The girl’s eyes lit up as soon as she saw their faces, but her arms unconsciously twisted in towards her stomach, hiding the scarring for the most part.

“Sorry, I’m really… I’m really sorry if I’m bothering you, or intruding or something. I just saw you, and… yeah,” she said shyly, shoulders hunching as she stared at Tyler hesitantly. 

Tyler fought through his surprise, letting a genuine smile take over his face as he held out his hand. 

“It’s completely fine! Uh,” he paused. “Hey. Thanks so much for being here, it means so much to us,” he said, gesturing between himself and Josh. He could see her face markedly relaxing a little, and heard her let out a long breath, as she realized that Tyler wasn’t going to get mad or send her away. In truth, he loved interacting with the kids who made his music come to life - especially at shows like this, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, when the littlest of interactions could prove that he was making differences wherever he went. 

“Thanks, uh… wow, yeah, no, it’s my pleasure,” she breathed, grasping and shaking his hand. “Y’all have, uh, yeah. You’ve… done a lot for me,” she finished awkwardly, eyes darting to the ground. 

Tyler felt his lips twitching up again. “Yeah?” he said. “I'm… really glad to hear that.” 

She beamed, eyes twinkling as she bit her lip, looking between him and Josh. 

“So what, uh… what brings you to the festival?” he prompted her, trying to relieve some of her obvious nerves.

“Oh, right, okay,” she began. Gosh, alright, I… don’t even know what to say right now. I just… okay, we came down from Cinci for this, we’re… yeah, we’re pretty big fans, I guess. Of yours.” She reddened, and Tyler felt a warmth beginning in his chest, as the energy that had been drained by his anxiety returned all at once, in full force. 

“Here, c’mere,” Tyler said warmly, moving forward to wrap his arms around the girl, who fell easily into his embrace. She made to pull away politely, but Tyler held on, squeezing her to him, and he felt her audibly let out a breath. He knew that body language. She needed a hug. 

A timid silence set in as they broke apart, each of them smiling slightly and ducking their heads.

This was different, talking to a fan _before_ their set - Tyler was used to having the music he had just played as some kind of starting ground, or a shared point of experience from which to begin a conversation. Now, he found himself fumbling with his words. 

“Are you, uh…” he began. “Are you seeing anyone else while you’re here? Any other bands?” 

“Oh… we’re seeing Relient K tomorrow,” she said slowly, and Tyler could practically feel Josh straighten up with excitement next to him. “But we’re… I mean…” she caught Tyler’s eye, looking away. “We came to see you guys, really.” 

“That’s sick that you’re seeing Relient K though,” Josh blurted, and Tyler fought back a laugh. 

The girl turned to grin at Josh. “Yeah, my mom made me listen to them a lot as a kid instead of other stuff, because it wasn’t “holy” enough or whatever. But then I actually ended up liking them, so… whaddya know,” she finished sheepishly. 

Josh’s face split into a grin, and he looked at Tyler, forehead arching in surprise. “That’s… uh. Yeah. Wow. Same, actually,” he spluttered, and the girl smiled. 

As she and Josh exchanged hugs too, Tyler was realizing that if there was one single thing out of the _hundreds_ of reasons why they should stay closeted from their fans, it was this - not because of the ones who _themselves_ would react badly, but for people like this girl. Some of their most important, most dedicated fans, it seemed, might have this music ripped out from under them by their parents the second it was deemed “unholy” - and finding out that the only two members were gay for each other would almost definitely do the trick. It suddenly seemed very selfish to prioritize his own… what? self-actualization? - over hundreds of kids having access to music that could help them. 

She and Josh were still hugging, and the girl’s friend took the opportunity to shuffle closer to Tyler, leaning in to speak quietly to him. 

“Hey,” the guy began. “I’m not really… I don’t know your music that well, sorry, but you…” he inclined his head towards his friend, before training his eyes pensively back on Tyler. “I can’t even really explain how much she’s changed since she found you guys. I think you gave her something, like… hope, or something, I don’t know. But anyway… thanks.” 

The back of Tyler’s throat constricted, but he sniffed, keeping his composure as he wrapped one arm around the friend, squeezing briefly. 

“Thanks for looking out for her,” he whispered, and then he was pulling away too. 

Josh turned to him as the two walked off, flashing him a half-smile, and shrugging slightly, as if to say _well, that happened._ Tyler hummed in acknowledgement, returning the half-smile. He wondered if Josh had been as attuned as he had to the little details about the girl - the way she held herself as if she were being constantly scrutinized, or her reluctance to fully meet his eyes. Even the flannel around her waist told a story: Tyler knew what it was like to have to prioritize comfort over modesty in this kind of heat, even at the expense of keeping certain things covered up. Had they had the backing track ready, it would almost have been enough to make him consider debuting “Guns for Hands” early.

Somehow, the encounter had managed to give him energy and make him vulnerable at the same time. Instead of letting it shut him down, though, Tyler mentally redoubled his efforts to broach this subject with Josh, and have the conversation that he desperately wanted to have. If anything, seeing those kids and realizing the volatility of this young fan base had fueled him: he needed to make sure that no matter who else came and went, he would have his drummer. 

He took a cursory glance around their corner of the tent, checking for any lingering fans or other unwanted eyes, before his gaze finally landed on Josh. Tyler realized that he must have gotten a little sunburned during the day; Josh’s nose and cheeks were dusted a little pinker than usual, making the soft swells of skin under his eyes stand out even more. He was suddenly struck with the realization that very little had changed about Josh’s appearance in the year since they’d met. Tyler knew that he himself had grown a somewhat leaner and darker in recent months - primarily a function of the fact that he was finally spending less time in the basement. But if anything, Josh had grown a little stronger, and filled out a little in some places; but, Tyler thought, as he took in the way that Josh’s soft gray v-neck shifted over his abs as he straightened out his arms, turning his drumsticks over and over absentmindedly - little else had changed. He still had his full lower lip, and his perpetually messy hair, and the kind of soft angular features that Tyler had never seen on anyone else. 

Tyler blinked, clearing his head. He couldn’t chicken out. He knew that this, now, was the best and only time to do it. He’d given this entire scenario far too much thought; but the way he saw it, his method was foolproof: if Josh said no, then he could run on stage and use the show to deal with his disappointment. There wouldn’t be time for embarrassment or hard feelings, because they’d have to put everything into their performance for the next hour and a half. 

Just as the festival announcer was starting to introduce twenty one pilots, Tyler pulled a somewhat surprised looking Josh to the side, just out of Mark’s earshot. 

“Josh,” he said quietly, moving to grasp both of his wrists with his own, trying to keep himself from shaking, or from levitating off the ground. Why was he this nervous? 

Josh seemed to sense his anxiety, lips parting slightly as he frowned, furrowing his slightly sunburnt brow. “What is it? Is something wrong?” he questioned, quirked his head as he stared into Tyler’s eyes. “You nervous about...?” He broke off, gesturing to the stage. 

Tyler just shook his head, taking a deep breath. 

“Be my boyfriend,” he huffed quietly, failing entirely at any kind of interrogative tone. His voice could almost have been mistaken for angry, had his face not broken out in a soft smile, as he added, “if you want.” 

Josh just crinkled up his eyes, the tip of his tongue poking through his teeth as he threw back his head and smiled. He leaned over to kiss Tyler on the cheek, before whispering in his ear: 

“I already am, dumbo.” 

Tyler rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless, a warm, airy feeling of relief spreading through his chest as he pressed his lips chastely to Josh’s. 

When they broke apart, Tyler saw, with horror, that Mark had been pointing his camera in their face the entire time. 

“Erase that _right now,_ ” Tyler snapped, blushing crimson and hearing Mark snort, before his boyfriend was grinning and grabbing him by the hand, and the three of them were walking onstage. 

 

\--------

 

By the time they got back to the campsite at around 1 a.m, every one of them was regretting the decision not to set up their tents earlier in the day. Tyler felt himself markedly dragging his feet as he moved back and forth from the SUV to the campsite, tossing duffels and cheap, unopened Walmart tents on the grass. They’d stuck around the stage long enough after their set that the buzz from performing had essentially worn off, and every muscle in his body was starting to ache and feel heavy.

Michael picked up the two tents that they’d bought earlier in the week, scanning the packaging and weighing them in his hand. 

“Uh, yeah,” he began, “I’m gonna go ahead and give you guys this one.” He tossed Josh the package labeled _One-Person Camper_ . “Because, like, I love Mark a lot, but I feel confident saying that we are slightly less inclined to cuddle than you guys are.”

Mark barked out a laugh, and Josh rolled his eyes, thwacking Michael gently with the package, before tearing open the plastic. 

“Fine by me. Can’t sleep with you snoring in my face anyway,” Josh retorted, and Michael stuck out his tongue. 

It took them about thirty minutes to get both of the tents set up. They had managed to find themselves a somewhat secluded part of the field, away from other campers, but Mark still made a point of pitching his and Michael’s tent on the other side of the cars from theirs. He’d rolled his eyes and played it off, but Tyler had given him a look that he hoped conveyed gratitude. More than anything else, he knew that Mark was just looking out for Tyler’s emotional privacy. Neither of them would ever say it, but Mark understood that there were conversations that he could only have with Josh, and no matter how much time they spent in close proximity when they were touring, Mark kept his distance on nights like these. 

By the time Tyler was unzipping the flap of his and Josh’s tiny orange tent and climbing inside, he felt like he was coming to the end of his proverbial rope. The emotional exhaustion of the show combined with the other events of the day - both physical and internal - had left him feeling like he’d run a mental marathon, and even though he knew that Michael had been joking earlier, Tyler was very ready to fall asleep with his head on Josh’s chest as it rose and fell with his gentle breathing. 

It was far too hot for sleeping bags, so they opted for unzipping them and laying them out on the bottom of the tent, forming a soft “mattress” of sorts. Tyler shucked off his red skinny jeans and button down, fishing around in his backpack for a tank top before laying back against his makeshift-pillow (which was actually just a balled-up hoodie); but Josh just stripped off his shirt, flopping down beside Tyler in his jeans. 

“You gonna sleep like that? It’s ninety degrees,” Tyler asked, and Josh chuckled. 

Josh raised an eyebrow, gesturing to his bare chest. “Am I too distracting for you? Won’t be able to close your eyes?” 

Tyler just huffed. Even though he’d seen Josh shirtless dozens, maybe hundreds of times, he would probably never tire of looking at the soft curves of his pecs and the smooth ridges of his abdomen. And even though it was too hot, and they were both sticky with sweat, Tyler shuffled closer to press himself against his side, and Josh extracted an arm from underneath him, wrapping it around Tyler’s frame.

“Hey,” Tyler mumbled, his voice muffled against Josh’s chest.

“Hey baby,” Josh replied. 

Tyler faltered slightly at the name, and he could feel Josh gauging his reaction; but his surprise was quickly replaced by a giddy warmth as he realized that they could say that now. They could say whatever they wanted. _Boyfriends,_ he reminded himself, and it felt like a rightful indulgence. 

Humming in contentment, he shifted himself even closer into Josh, curling his limbs around him and craning his neck up to press his lips softly against his stubbly cheek. Josh always ended up rough and scratchy at the end of the day, which Tyler found both endearing and frustrating - it took him like a week to grow something even slightly resembling the beginning of a beard. He brushed his lips against Josh’s jaw again, and Tyler could hear Josh’s breath catch in his throat. He shifted to give Tyler greater access to the expanse of skin between his jaw and his shoulder, and Tyler took it, leaving hot trails of breathy bites along his neck. 

The way Josh was humming and squirming, and the way his adam’s apple bobbed under Tyler’s lips made him want so much to do more, to leave a mark, and coax louder sounds from the boy beside him. But he knew it would be unwise when they had to go out in front of an audience again tomorrow., so he settled for leaving gentle licks and kisses along Josh’s jaw, letting hot breath brush over the skin of his neck, and allowing one hand to move slowly and uncertainly along the muscles of his stomach. 

Just like he had when they’d first kissed, Tyler felt like the only thing that mattered right now, his only motivation, was to be as close to Josh as physically possible. Josh’s huffs were becoming vocal now, turning into guttural sighs, and Tyler could feel him stirring against him, desperate for something… Without thinking too hard about what he was doing, he trailed his hand further along Josh’s torso, tracing the outline of his muscles and the thin line of hair that led down, down… 

He saw and felt Josh gasping before he heard the sound, muscles contracting and heart pumping under his hand. Tyler felt his own heart flutter at the notion that he was getting Josh this flustered, and the realization made the warm beginnings of arousal course through the pit of his stomach. 

Reluctantly, he let his lips break contact with Josh’s neck, moving his gaze upward as they heatedly locked eyes. Even without exchanging words, he knew that they were both reeling in the newness of this sensation - the possibility of reaching this point, of beginning to fall apart with each other, and not turning back. 

He kept his eyes fervently locked with Josh’s; it felt as though breaking their gaze would somehow bring Tyler back to his senses, or force him into cold rationality, which was the last place in the world he wanted to be. He'd much rather lose himself in the deep, brown intensity of Josh’s eyes, or his slightly parted lips, or the skin of his stomach, tacky and electric, as Tyler’s hand moved almost imperceptibly slowly towards Josh’s jeans.

He could feel the bumps of his ribs and every ripple of muscle as his hand grazed over them, inching over the skin at a pace that felt almost slower than time. Yet something fast and hot was churning in Josh’s eyes, and although his breaths were becoming even more erratic, he did not break their gaze. Tyler did not hesitate or falter for a moment, but found himself afraid to speak, afraid to breathe, even, almost as if he were afraid of the sounds he would make if he did. But they were forced to take in air, allowing shuddering gasps and stifled sighs to fall through their lips, as both of them held their breath. 

And then, all at once, they were gone. Tyler swiftly moved his hand the rest of the way, pressing his palm against the impossibly hard outline of Josh’s dick, and the noise that it wrung from Josh’s throat was almost enough to make Tyler fall apart then and there. 

Josh reached for his hand, and Tyler thought for a moment that he was going to pull him away, but he just clasped his own hand over Tyler’s, splaying his long fingers over Tyler’s knuckles and guiding his movements as slowly, cautiously, they palmed Josh together. 

Josh broke their gaze briefly, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, almost as if he were trying to regain his composure. But Tyler didn’t want him composed; he could feel his own resolve breaking down, sense and rationality leaving his body as his boxers slowly grew tighter. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so unequivocally sure of what he wanted. Instinct and need were taking over, and he wanted to let them; he wanted to lose himself completely in Josh, to be at the mercy of his hands… to have him, and be _taken._

He leaned back into Josh, bracing his forehead against the side of his shoulder as slowly, one-handedly, he fumbled with button of his jeans. Tyler paused with his hands on Josh’s zipper as if to ask permission, and Josh answered him with the tiniest twitch of his hips, searching for contact, which Tyler was eager to give. His movements still tortuously slow, Tyler reached a hand into Josh’s boxers, letting his fingers brush delicately over the warm, taut skin of his cock. He was surprised to find himself almost as overwhelmed as Josh seemed to be; but the feeling of Josh, heavy and hard like this in his hand, was like nothing he'd ever experienced, or imagined experiencing. It was carnality, and arousal, and it was _all for him._

He gave Josh’s length a gentle but firm squeeze, and felt a hand curling against his chest. He looked down to see Josh gripping and tugging his shirt, fingers clutching helplessly at the fabric as his lips parted in a quiet groan that sounded something like _“Tyyyyler…”_

The sound of his name seemed to flip some kind of internal switch for both of them. Delicacy and hesitance were suddenly gone, and Josh heaved himself onto his side so that his chest was flush with Tyler’s, letting out a whispered growl, before he was grabbing the back of Tyler’s neck and kissing him, _hard._

Tyler didn’t even have time to process that this was _happening,_ it was _really happening,_ and in a tent in the middle of a field of other people, nonetheless. 

“Gotta be quiet,” Josh breathed hoarsely against his lips and Tyler nodded hurriedly; but the distant music was drowning out any other noise from the campsite - if Michael’s snores were inaudible, he figured that they were okay. 

In any case, Tyler’s mind was going numb as Josh shifted against him, and any part of his brain that would have otherwise told Tyler to question or rationalize became immobilized as soon he felt Josh’s hips pressing and grinding softly against his own. If he hadn’t been completely hard before, he absolutely was now. His dick was straining for relief, and he was finding it, over and over, as Josh dragged their hard, clothed cocks blissfully together, slow and torturous and warm.

Tyler registered the sudden absence of lips on his own, and realized that Josh was whispering in his ear, asking if he was sure about this. He couldn’t even find the words to say yes, but he forced himself to nod and choke an affirmative “y-yeah” into the side of Josh’s neck as he squeezed his eyes shut, hand clutching fitfully at anything he could find to grab onto. He was pretty sure, as Josh aimed another desperate thrust between his legs, that this was the most _anything_ that he had ever felt, and that notion started to scare him. 

“Hey,” he heard Josh say, pulling back slightly to tilt Tyler’s head up by the chin, in such a gentle and protective gesture that Tyler felt tears threatening to well up in his eyes. “You okay? I got you.” 

Tyler just clamped his eyes shut, nodding rapidly and tightening his legs around Josh’s in a silent plea for him to continue. Josh immediately obliged, rocking forward again and dragging their crotches against each other in a single, agonizing movement that tore a soft whimper from Tyler’s throat. 

He felt Josh pressing a knee gently between his legs, and Tyler let his thighs fall open, immediately granting him access. Every thrust was laced with heat and hunger, and Tyler unconsciously wrapped his own leg over Josh’s, bringing them even closer together. All the while, Josh was kissing him, moving their mouths slowly and uncoordinatedly together, stopping only to gasp and whimper occasionally against Tyler’s lips. Everything was soft, and dark, and too hot, and _still_ it wasn’t enough.

“Josh,” he mumbled quietly, not sure what he was asking for, but knowing that something needed to happen.

“Yeah,” Josh huffed, answering the question that Tyler hadn’t found the breath to ask. “Want -” he choked out, pulling at Tyler’s boxers. “Want you.” 

Tyler moaned in response, long and loud, and shifted closer. Reaching a hand back down, he fumbled blindly along Josh’s waistband again, until he found the bulge in his underwear, harder than ever, and damp with precome now. Josh lifted his hips, giving Tyler permission to pull his boxers down slowly, letting his dick spring free and hit his stomach with a dull thud. Tyler was suddenly cursing the lack of light and the bad angle, wanting nothing more than to see in perfect detail how Josh looked like this, exposed and vulnerable, with his cock red and leaking and lying heavy on his stomach. 

Like Josh, the only feeling he could name was want, and the only thought he could process was the immediate need for both of their clothes to be gone. He retracted his hands from Josh long enough to pull his own shirt over his head, and Josh was immediately lunging in, dragging teeth and tongue across his collar bones, and over his shoulders, as his hand slid almost unnoticed into Tyler’s underwear, pulling out his own achingly hard dick.

He let his mouth fall open, head rolling onto Josh’s shoulder, trying to form his name on his lips again, but yielding only a long, slow sigh. Josh answered with an equally tortured expression, face contorted almost painfully, as if finally touching Tyler like this was too much to bear. 

Tyler knew the feeling. Even though the last two months had been a litany of touches and intimate embraces, nothing could compare to this, the feeling of holding each other this way, giving into both their own pleasure and each others as they came undone together. 

He almost forgot that he was supposed to be moving his hand, until he felt Josh’s begin to pump his dick slowly. Each drag of his thumb against his length feeling white hot and overwhelming, and Tyler realized that he was fumbling blindly in more than one sense, having neither a good view nor any real idea of what he was doing. The best that he could do was to give Josh what he would have given himself, and mimic what Josh was doing to him. From the quiet, heavy sounds issuing from Josh’s throat as he let his mouth fall open against Tyler’s cheek, he was doing just fine. They began to build up a slow rhythm together, fists moving and twisting in tandem as they continued to share desperate breaths, panting shallowly into each other’s mouths, lips slack and just barely touching, and noses resting together. He was sure that he must be leaving marks in Josh’s bicep where his fingernails were digging in, but Josh didn’t seem to mind - he was gripping at the back of Tyler’s neck just as hard, fingers clutching unconsciously at his short hair. 

Tyler knew how he must sound, and knew that the little breaths and whimpers issuing from his throat were the exact opposite of how he wanted to come across, but he also couldn’t bring himself to care - with Josh, he was allowed to be whatever he wanted to be. Josh was taking him apart, piece by piece - he had been for a long time - and any kind of masculine nonchalance, or cool indifference, or suave composure, had cracked a long time ago. There was no room for sexiness or control or anything else when he was this wrapped around his boyfriend. 

He didn’t realize that they'd been unconsciously inching closer to each other until in one desperate and charged moment, the heads of their dicks brushed against each other, and Tyler felt his entire body catch on fire.

 _“F-fuuuck,”_ he managed, and Josh responded with a breathy whine, before retracting his hand, leaving Tyler aching and humping the air. 

He flicked his eyes up in confusion, but clarity reached him in the form of Josh’s fist, closing around both of their dicks as he began to pump them together, practically stopping Tyler's breath. He buried his forehead deep in the crook of Josh’s shoulder, bracing himself for dear life. 

Every stroke of Josh’s fist brought Tyler deeper and deeper into an uninhibited abandon that he didn’t even have the mental capacity to fear. He was lost, and falling, and _so so close._

Tyler tried to focus all his energy on keeping his eyes open, hating the idea of missing a single thing about this, but it had become too much, and he squeezed them shut. He relied on the sound of Josh’s breathing instead, and the feeling of their sweaty foreheads pressed together. Josh's strokes had started to speed up out of sheer desperation, and the feeling had both of them bucking up repeatedly into his fist. Tyler realized with a shiver that he had never been closer to anyone in his entire life - this was the kind of close that he’d been reaching for, he realized, all this time… 

He remembered hearing once - maybe back in middle school - that at any given time, regardless of whether you were standing or sitting or lying down, the earth was weighing and on you just as much as you were weighing on it - that the force of gravity was offset by the earth pushing back on you with equal force, and if it weren’t for that equilibrium, that _exact_ polarity of tension, you would either sink into the earth’s core or be thrown into orbit. 

That's what this was like. They were both pressing into each other and holding on for dear life at the same time, and their shaking, panting, equilibrium was the only definition of _together_ that Tyler would ever need again.

Josh was starting to quiver against him, and Tyler knew that they were both right on the edge, reaching the apexes of their pleasure at the exact same moment. He felt Josh speed up his strokes, pumping only a few more times before he was tightening his grip on the back of Tyler's neck, choking out his name as he came, hard, over both of their stomachs. The sound of his name said in that way was more than enough to push Tyler over the edge too, chasing Josh into ecstatic oblivion as their bodies continued to buck and rock against each other. He wanted to hear Josh saying his name like that, choked and desperate, playing on a loop for the rest of his life. 

Even as they came down, they kept their joint rhythm, chests heaving and hips still bucking forward with aftershocks of pleasure. Tyler kept his eyes squeezed shut, memorizing every inch of their bodies where they were pressed together, skin hot and hearts pounding. He was clinging to the last moments of _firstness_ before it slipped away forever. 

Finally, he opened his eyes and let them wander up to Josh’s face, and found it flushed, and streaked with tears.

 _“Josh,”_ he breathed, pulling back far enough to cup his face in both his hands, heart beating out of his chest. He didn’t want to believe that anything was wrong. “What is it?” 

But Josh just smiled his toothy, breath-taking, monumental grin, eyes scrunching up and tongue poking between his teeth, the movement of his muscles making his glistening cheeks catch the light. 

“Nothing,” he said, voice wrecked, but still grinning. “Or… I don’t know. Everything.” 

Tyler’s chest burned, and he leaned forward to capture Josh in a long, deep kiss. This, he realized, was a Josh that no one else got to see, and the immensity of that sentiment was all-consuming. Not even behind their instruments had either of them been this vulnerable, or this safe. 

Eventually, they pulled apart. Josh lifted his head slightly, extracting the rolled-up shirt that he had repurposed as a pillow, and using it to wipe off their hands and stomachs. Tyler felt almost like a child, being cleaned up like that, but something about it felt good, too; as if this - all of this, really - was just an extension of the way that Josh had been taking care of him all along. How they’d been taking care of each other. 

“Aw man,” he heard Josh sigh, holding his balled-up, now irreparably stained shirt. “I just realized that this was the only other shirt I brought. I was supposed to wear this one tomorrow.” 

Tyler let out a loud belly-laugh, curling in on Josh’s chest and replacing his head in the crook of his shoulder. 

“You’ll just have to wear your other one and be smelly, then,” he teased, and Josh pouted, chucking the shirt down towards the other end of the tent. 

Tyler realized, as Josh lay back down and pulled him into his chest with one arm, that as much as he wanted to stay in this moment for the rest of time, he was once again fighting to keep his eyes open. The exhaustion of the day, combined with his blissful post-orgasmic haze, were finally catching up with him and pulling him under. 

“Sleepy?” Josh whispered in his ear, and he realized that his eyes must have drifted shut. Josh’s voice seemed distant, almost, but it pulled him back over the brink of consciousness. 

“Mmm,” Tyler managed, pressing his cheek further into his chest. 

Josh hummed endearingly, stroking fingers through his hair with the hand that was wrapped around his shoulders. “S’okay, baby boy. Go to sleep.” 

And even though there had been dozens of nights like this already, even though they’d been in these exact positions as _friends_ a hundred times before, something about lying here, sweaty and sticky and together, felt like something falling into place. And more so than any moment since he’d first stayed up all night talking with Josh, it felt like coming home. 

Tyler gave one, last, ragged and utterly contented sigh, letting his eyes flutter shut. And maybe it was his imagination, but he could have _sworn_ that he heard a breathy _"I love you, Tyler,"_ murmured into his hair, before oblivion overcame him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was worth the wait :) 
> 
> Talk to me, I miss you.


	12. Where's Your Home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this feels like filler, that’s most likely because it’s filler.

It was July again. 

Ohio summer was in full, humid swing, and so was Regional at Best. Tyler had been working with Josh and Mark practically nonstop on getting everything done. CDs and merch had been ordered, gigs and hotel rooms had been booked, and all the rest of their time, every ounce of energy they had in them, had been dedicated to planning their album release show next weekend. 

The idea that all these kids were actually excited to hear new songs - that the music wasn’t just being written into a hopeful void anymore - still felt to Tyler more like dream than reality. It was both exhilarating and nerve wracking at the same time. On one hand, the support he had received, from both his fans and his close friends and family, had been mind-blowing, and incredibly validating. But on the other hand, it made the stakes feel so much higher. Everything else he had released had essentially just been for _him_ ; the songs had been written for their cathartic or spiritual value, and recorded mostly just so that they wouldn’t disappear in the stagnant air of his basement. 

But this… Tyler had been forced - been able - to write some of these songs anticipating that they might mean something to someone else. In a way, that made it feel even more personal - and, by extension, even more terrifying to release into the world. 

Nevertheless, throwing all of his energy into releasing new music had been truly, almost unnervingly _fun._ In many ways, it felt like the opposite of last summer. It was still July, it was still hot, and still Columbus - but Columbus was no longer synonymous with entrapment. The previous July had been a haze of guiltily trespassing into the territory of missing Josh, a boy who he had really only just met, and who he was terrified to care about. And while the terror never really entirely subsided, it was now accompanied by so much unparalleled joy and comfort and safety that Tyler could live with it - enjoy it, even. 

Josh was his now, and he was here, and it was so, _so good._

They were falling asleep in the same bed more often than not these days, it seemed - not sex, not anything suggestive, even - just innocent, drowsy, togetherness - so much of it that Chris had started to joke that Josh should be paying rent. Josh had offered, of course, but Tyler had insisted that he had enough to worry about with the rent for his and Dustin’s place, especially considering how much Josh had had to cut back on his side jobs to be able to keep up with the band’s schedule. 

And it was on one of these July mornings - just cool enough that one could pretend they wouldn’t be sweltering later on - that Tyler was finally forcing himself to quit his own, too. 

He’d been interning at a new church in his parents neighborhood for the past few months, but the band had finally brought him to the point - the point that he’d sort of been dreaming about since he was seventeen - where music was taking up all his time and energy. And even though it was still somewhat of a meager existence, he was finally able to make ends meet without an additional salary. Now more than ever, Tyler had to admit that he couldn’t be tied down to something that didn’t have to do with the band. 

In reality, he probably should have had this discussion with his boss a long time ago, as soon as he and Michael had started booking so many shows for after the album release; there was no way he’d be able to commit to any kind of regular schedule for the remainder of the summer. But he’d put it off, and put it off, until finally, today, Tyler had forced himself to drive over and confront the pastor. 

Though it was broad daylight, Tyler found himself slipping into isolated restlessness, a suffocating quiet settling over him as he stood outside New Albany Church, steeling himself for the conversation ahead. It wasn’t that he found the pastor intimidating in any way - he was barely older than Tyler was himself - it was almost the opposite problem. The people here had been so good to him, and such immediate and true friends, that leaving so soon felt almost like a betrayal - especially while the church was still getting its own footing. 

The building was eerily empty today, most people being either at work or at school, and the silence seemed to close in on Tyler even more as he made his way through the dim hallways, towards the main offices and Sunday school area. But when he finally found his way to Joel’s office, he just encountered a note on the door: 

_Doing outreach w Travis, be in tomorrow. Reachable by phone!_

Tyler read the message twice over before groaning and letting his head fall against the door in frustration. He’d psyched himself up to have this conversation, and now the whole thing was going to be painfully prolonged for another day. 

It was too late to try and tag along with Mark and Josh on the errands he’d sent them on, and too early to go home without being forced to wait alone for another hour, at least. He wasn't in the mood for an empty house. 

Reluctantly, Tyler pushed off the wall and made his way back through the dark church hallway and into the main sanctuary, which was really just a big, carpeted room with a makeshift altar/stage and a lot of folding chairs. But the moment he was inside, Tyler was automatically drawn to the old, baby grand that sat in a corner near the front. It was only when he had his fingers poised over the deep ivory keys that Tyler realized how long it had been since he had touched an actual _piano._ He loved his keyboard and the frame that Chris had built for it, and it served him well for all his songwriting and recording, but unless he was at his parents house, there was really no excuse or opportunity for him to play the real thing these days. 

He ran his fingers over the white keys, settling them on G, but not pressing down yet. G had always felt like a safe key to Tyler - one for confessions or lullabies or prayers. It was the key of quiet, tortured devotions... _Anathema… March to the Sea… Addict with a Pen…_

Casting one final glance around the sanctuary to ensure that he wasn’t being watched, Tyler let his fingers fall into the familiar rhythm of _Addict. _He could still remember a time when this pattern seemed hard, when he had to think about where his fingers were going, and at what times. Now, his left index finger trailed down the chord progression without any conscious thought - G, F#, E, C…__

 _ _It was almost too automatic. He knew this feeling; it was the kind of comfortable, safe familiarity that meant that it was time to write a new song. Playing this one still _meant something,_ of course, still _ did something_ for him every time, but now it was like repeating the same prayer over and over again, or asking for an answer to an old problem. It wasn’t enough anymore. He had new problems and he needed new words. 

There _was_ a new song that he’d been rolling around his head at night, far too late for the album, and probably too strange and simple for it anyway. He’d imagined the words into existence over the course of dozens of nights spent watching Josh sleep, but they’d still never left the confines of his imagination, and never been spoken out loud. 

Without moving his hands from G major, Tyler played a few quiet, broken chords, until he could slowly start to fathom his lyrics into the beginnings of a melody. 

_G, B… no, B7… C… back to G… E minor, C, G._

The acoustics in here were truly terrible, Tyler thought; the carpet dampened everything, and every chord dissolved softly into the stagnant air as soon as his fingers touched the keys. But it was perfect for this song. Quiet, still, and ephemeral. It was restrained in a way that nothing else he had worked on had been. _Simple,_ he told himself. No embellishments, no flourishes… and there would be no programming, even, he realized. This one was just going to be him and the piano. 

A new kind of prayer. 

In the dim, almost evening-like light of the sanctuary, Tyler sang. 

_Stay alive,_  
_Stay alive,_  
_For me._

 

\------ 

 

“So just post office now?” Mark asked, stretching dramatically as Josh rolled the pickup to a stop. 

“Mmm,” Josh responded. The two of them had been running errands practically all day, nearly draining Josh’s gas tank in their treks to various parts of Columbus. Two boxes of new merch had already been shoved in the backseat, alongside bits and pieces of a rented PA system for the release show, and the wrappings and remains of a pitstop at Taco Bell. All that was left to do was to go to the post office, where, finally, they would be able to pick up the first round of the new CDs. 

“And remind me why we are doing this without Tyler?” Mark went on.

“Church stuff, I guess?” said Josh vaguely. “He didn’t really say…”

And it was true; Tyler hadn’t been much more specific than that when he texted Josh last night, asking if he could chauffeur Mark around on some band related errands. When Josh had asked why he couldn't come, he'd just said something vague and brief about church and a “conversation with Joel.” Josh had decided not to press the topic further, and he hoped that Mark wouldn’t either. 

And in any case, Josh was more than willing to help out. His role in the band was still new enough that every little errand like this, every bit of “band business” that he was allowed to attend to, felt like a victory all over again. He was twenty one pilots, and so was Tyler. 

The line at the post office was practically out the door, and Mark was groaning in annoyance before they even got inside. 

“At least it’s not raining yet,” Mark grumbled, as they were forced to pause just outside the entrance. 

“It’s supposed to hold out until after the show,” Josh said immediately, pulling up the weather app in his phone and showing Mark the screen. “The storm is supposed to hold out until Sunday, it says right -” 

“Not you too,” Mark groaned. “I swear, Tyler hasn’t stopped checking the weather for the last _month_ practically.” 

Josh shrugged. “He’s worried.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed. 

They shuffled forward a few steps in line, allowing the front door to swing shut. 

“But he’s like… good worried, right?” Mark added, turning his head inquisitively towards Josh. 

“Hm?”

“He’s like…” Mark went on. “He’s good. You know? I think he’s doing good.” 

Josh bit his lip. “Yeah,” he finally decided. “I mean it’s… hard to know for sure, you know? Like, we aren’t in his head. But I think… yeah.” 

It almost felt transgressive, talking like this to Mark. _But,_ Josh realized, Mark had been close to Tyler for for almost as long as Josh had; and maybe more importantly, he had been there for him in times when Josh couldn’t, because of touring, or work, or _Tim._ Part of him wanted to thank Mark for that, but he couldn’t think of how to phrase it without sounding weird. And it’s not like Mark was looking out for Tyler on Josh’s behalf, by any stretch of the imagination. It’s what they did for each other. All three of them. 

“But we’re here, you know?” said Mark, as if reading Josh’s mind. “I mean, you and I. We’ll be here. If he goes south.” 

“He would be too,” added Josh, and Mark nodded in agreement.

“Yeah.”

Mark didn't really have to say anything else. Josh knew that there were some things about Tyler that just went unsaid among his friends. He wasn't sure of the extent of Mark’s knowledge in terms of what Tyler had told him on all those, teary, dangerous nights, but he seemed to know enough to understand that even at his strongest or his most stable, Tyler still seemed a little bit fragile, like a bomb that could detonate at any time. 

Although, Josh had to admit that Tyler really _had_ been doing better. Not even in terms of _happiness,_ which wasn’t really something that even Josh himself knew how to define. But even though he knew that he could never fully understand what went on in Tyler’s brain, Josh had to acknowledge that Tyler had essentially opened up like a freaking book for him in the last couple months. It couldn’t have been easy, either; he fully recognized how much it must have taken for Tyler to let go of his denial like that, and surrender to what his heart was telling him, despite all the potential consequences and ingrained implications. 

And yet, Josh felt like he himself had the opposite problem. More and more, it seemed as if he was holding back, keeping everything dammed up, and the pressure was too much sometimes. It was as if his feelings for Tyler were so big, so unparalleled in their magnitude, that not even their relationship could contain it, let alone his own brain. He found himself constantly censoring his affection, trying not to move too fast; but if anything, it was even _harder_ now than it had been back when they were “just friends.” Now that the weight of pretense had been lifted, it wasn’t as easy to simply shove things down, or categorize them strategically where they would be out of sight. It was as if he had to let it out in little bursts, just enough so that the consuming heat of it all wouldn’t eat away at him, but not so much as to scare Tyler away. 

“Josh.” 

He heard his name said sharply, and turned to see Mark staring at him with a raised eyebrow and an amused half-smile. 

“Still with us?” he questioned, and Josh grunted affirmatively, shaking his head to clear it. 

“I swear,” Mark went on, sighing. “You _both_ have your fucking heads in the clouds. Half the time I don’t know if either of you are actually listening to me, or if you’re just standing there fantasizing about the other.”

“That’s - I wasn’t -” Josh insisted, but Mark just laughed. 

“Relax, I didn’t mean it like _that,"_ he teased. “Just - you know. Separation anxiety, or whatever. It’s cute.” 

Josh huffed, rolling his eyes. He _had_ been thinking about Tyler, but it wasn’t daydreaming so much as it was worrying. In all honesty, they didn’t spend enough time apart to really necessitate daydreaming. And it wasn’t exactly that Josh _couldn’t_ be separated from him, so much as it just seemed vaguely ridiculous to spend any extended period of time _not_ with Tyler, when he could be with him. 

“You’re doing it again,” Mark muttered under his breath, and Josh swatted his shoulder with his hand. 

_“Whatever.”_

They shuffled forward in line a few steps. 

Not for the first time that summer, a thought crossed Josh’s mind. 

“Mark,” he said suddenly. “You’re not… we don’t make you feel like… I mean.” He broke off awkwardly. “You don’t ever feel like we’re… third-wheeling you, right?” 

“What?” said Mark, raising an eyebrow. “You think I want to snuggle up in Tyler’s bed with the two of you? And get in on all those long, pining gazes?” 

_Josh reddened. “Shut up.”_

“Plus, if anything,” Mark went on, smirking. “ _You’re_ the one who should feel like a third-wheel. You don’t share the bond that Tyler and I have developed from our joint experience of the rental house’s shower mold.” 

“Yeah, okay, I’ll pass on that,” Josh decided, tossing back his head and huffing with laughter. “Although I’ve done my fair share of handywork in that house, so give me _some_ credit. 

“Fine,” Mark grinned. “But the moral of the story is that I feel no desire to be present for the hours that you two spend in that bedroom doing _God knows what._ I mean, y’all are actually pretty quiet, which I count among my blessings daily, but I still definitely don’t want to know.” 

“Oh,” Josh said, genuinely startled. “We… no. Uh. That’s not - yeah.” 

Mark frowned, turning to face him fully. 

“We’re just… it’s more like.” Josh took a breath. “Just… sleeping together? Like actual sleeping,” he clarified quickly, and Mark looked like his eyebrows were going to disappear into his hairline. 

“It’s…” he went on, hesitating and biting his lip. “...nice, I guess.” 

Mark took a deep breath through his nose, pressing his lips together in a soft smile. “That’s… he began. “That’s actually incredibly sweet. And very believable.” 

“Mm,” Josh affirmed, feeling himself starting to blush. 

“But like…” Mark hesitated, chewing his lip and grinning. “You like… you guys aren’t like… still pretending to be friends, right? Like you are… at least entertaining the possibility of fucking? Because…” 

“ _Mark,_ ” Josh moaned quietly, wanting to sink through the floor of the post office. “Can we drop this, pl-” 

“No, listen,” Mark said, and Josh looked up to see him looking suddenly earnest and concerned. “I just mean… because he’s really into… this, you know,” he continued, fumbling with his words in his attempt at blunt sincerity. “I want to make sure… I mean I know you’d never lead him on, or anything, but… you get that he really… that he loves you, right? Like, I really think he loves you a lot.” 

They were both pink now. Neither of them knew how to talk about this, Josh realized. He also realized that if Mark had forced himself to say that, he must have considered it pretty important. Josh had never known anything quite as forceful or undeniably intact as their little triangle of loyalty. 

“Just tell me this one thing, and then I’ll drop it,” Mark said. 

He raised a challenging eyebrow, and Mark smirked. 

“Are you a top?” 

Josh stiffened, eyes flying open as he looked around the two of them to see if anyone else in the line had heard him. 

“ _Mark Christopher Eshleman,_ ” Josh hissed. “We are _not_ having this conversation in the post office.” 

Mark opened his mouth to retort, but closed it quickly, frowning. “How do you know my middle name.” 

“I - well, instagram,” Josh said, rolling his eyes. “But that’s - not my point. I’m - we’re haven’t... _jeez._ ” 

Fortunately, it was at that exact moment that the two of them finally reached the counter, where they were met with a bored looking woman in a blue vest. 

“Hey,” said Mark, stepping up to her and smiling. “We got an email that a shipment came in for us? Should be under Joseph?” 

After disappearing for a few moments, the woman reemerged from the back room, dropping a huge cardboard box onto the counter with a thud. 

“So if you could just open it to confirm that it’s your purchase, y’all can be out of here,” she said, holding up a small box cutter. 

“Oh,” Mark said blankly, looking up at Josh and voicing his exact thoughts. “We kind of - we were going to wait for our friend. He’d kind of want to see it. Emotional moment, and all. Emotional guy.” He glanced at Josh, who smiled. 

The woman, however, looked unimpressed. “Look,” she began, “you can tape it back up and then unbox it again for all I care, but… shipment this big, I can’t let you pay for it until you confirm the content.” 

Josh cast one more glance at Mark before shrugging, and turning back to the box. 

“Alright, let’s do it.” 

He took the box cutter, slicing open the packaging tape on one of the boxes, and prying open the cardboard flap. 

250 copies of Regional at Best stared back at him, uniform, shrinkwrapped, and neatly stacked. 

“Kinda wish he was here for this,” Mark sighed. 

“What?” Josh said, tearing his gaze away from the box and snapping his head up. “Oh. Yeah. But he'll still get to see it.” 

“Yeah,” Mark agreed, and then grinned. “Yeah. He'll be happy.” 

Mark paid for the delivery with a check from the band’s checking account, which Josh was surprised to learn even existed - another sobering reminder that Mark had been a part of this band for longer than he had. But rather than making him feel left out, or envious, the whole notion just made him feel more at home. 

He was realizing more and more, as he got to know Mark, that despite the divide that put him and Tyler in the band, and Mark and Michael on the outskirts, and him and Tyler in a relationship, with, once again, Mark and Michael on the outskirts, that it never really felt like a _split_ in the sense that he might have expected if he’d been looking at it from the outside. It had all the trappings of a weird, third-wheel dynamic, but on the inside, it was so much more complex, and comfortable, and real. He wasn’t sure when Mark became this easy to talk to, or even when he had become this close of a friend, but somewhere along the way - maybe as a product of one two many trips in a cramped SUV - they had all begun to exist as friends on their own, regardless of whatever configuration they found themselves in. He and Mark had their own friendship, even when Tyler wasn’t there. _That’s family,_ Josh realized. _This is family._

 

\------ 

 

Tyler had spent almost an hour and a half at the sanctuary piano, and although he liked what he had written - _really truly_ liked it - the process had left him feeling more alone than he had in awhile. 

Just as he was making his way back out the front doors, resigned to returning home, he heard a woman’s voice calling his name from down the hall. 

“Tyler honey! Is that you?” the voice said, reverberating harshly in the dim, empty space. 

Tyler didn’t even had time to turn around before something - or someone, rather - was colliding with his thighs, wrapping tight arms around his waist and squealing in delight. 

“Rubes!” he hummed, ruffling the hair of the little girl hanging off his legs. Ruby’s mother hurried up to them, slightly out of breath from catching up with her daughter. 

Several families from his old church had moved to the New Albany congregation when it opened, and Ruby’s family had been one of them. And though Tyler had been spending multiple days a week here, he’d missed the last few Sundays - much to the disapproval of his mother - for out-of-state festivals with Josh, Mark, and Michael. 

“Was that you playing the piano in there?” her mother said, wide-eyed and beaming at Tyler.

“Oh,” he mumbled in surprise, cheeks reddening slightly. “Yes, ma’am. It was.” 

“Please, sweetheart, I’ve known you for nearly two years now,” Ruby’s mother laughed. “You can call me Carol.” 

Tyler nodded, drawing his bottom lip behind his teeth. He was genetically programmed to never call adults by their first names, despite the fact that he was technically an adult now, and that Carol was significantly younger than his parents. Even Josh’s mother had practically had to beat him over the head the first few times they met before he could manage to stop calling her “Mrs. Dun.” 

“But really, Tyler,” Carol continued, smiling warmly. “That sounded wonderful. Is that one of your band’s songs?” 

“No - well, yes -” Tyler corrected himself. “Uh. It’s a new one, I guess…” he trailed off. It was slowly occurring to him that this was the first time he’d seen Ruby or her family since he had written them into a song. He hadn’t given it a single thought at the time, but now that he was face to face with her mother, it was starting to feel as if Tyler had overstepped a boundary, or as if maybe he should have checked with them first. It seemed almost rude or presumptuous to have included any of them in his lyrics in the first place. _This,_ he realized, was why it was better just to stick to writing about stuff from his own head - that was all he ever could or _should_ claim to know. 

Of course, it was essentially too late; the track was already on the record, licensed to be released on iTunes, and printed on all the CDs. He couldn’t possibly rectify this in any way, except… 

“We’re having a show next week?” Tyler blurted, voice lilting up in his clumsy attempt at sounding cheerful. “Uh, the... my band. We’re playing at the high school.” He pointed down the road. “New Albany High School… uh. On Saturday.” 

Carol looked genuinely taken aback, and unsure of how to respond. 

“There’s this… it’s - there’s a song,” he tried to explain, shifting uncomfortably. “On the new record we’re putting out. It’s - I thought you might want to hear it, you and your husband in particular. If you’d like to come. It won’t be rowdy or anything, just… high school kids, and maybe parents and stuff, and… yeah.” 

She smiled, eyebrows still knitted together slightly in apparent confusion, and Tyler started to wish that he’d just kept his mouth shut. 

“I would enjoy that very much, Tyler,” she finally said, surprising him. “Thank you. That must be where you went to school, isn’t it?” 

“Oh,” Tyler faltered. “No, actually. I went to Worthington Christian.” 

“That’s right, of course,” Carol said, waving her hand briskly. “And your siblings must still be there?” 

He scratched his head awkwardly, slipping back into his polite-church-boy front. “Just Madison at the moment, ma’am.” 

She nodded in understanding, just as Ruby started to pull at the hem of Tyler’s shirt, stretching it downwards to get the adults’ attention again. 

“That’s enough of that, Miss Ruby,” Carol said, putting an arm around her as Tyler righted his shirt, grinning. “It was so wonderful to see you again, Tyler. And I’ll look forward to hearing your band play.” 

“Oh. Th- uh. Thanks,” Tyler stammered awkwardly. “And hey…” He knelt down, taking hold of Ruby’s small, chubby hands. “Good to see you, angel.” 

Ruby leaned forward, widening her eyes and swaying slightly, until her forehead knocked clumsily against Tyler’s.

“Bye,” she stated simply, before grinning hugely. 

Tyler giggled, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Bye.” 

He straightened up, reaching a hand up to tug at his hair as Ruby and her mother retreated back down the hall, hand in hand. Each of them looked back over their shoulder before disappearing through the door, Carol with a warm smile, and Ruby with those wise, infinite, elated eyes. 

“Take care,” Carol called, rounding the corner, and leaving Tyler alone once more.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, a faint smile reaching his lips. “You too.” 

 

\------ 

 

Tyler figured that Josh would have gone home by now, considering how long he had ended up taking at the church. He definitely didn't expect to walk into the rental house and see Mark and Josh halfway through their second box of waffle crisp, watching Batman, with their shoes kicked off and feet drawn up onto the couch. 

“Hey!” Josh greeted him, warmth overcoming his features as he swiveled around on the couch to face Tyler. “We’re eating… dinner, I guess?” He trailed off, turning to Mark.

“Definitely dinner,” Mark agreed, mouth full. “There is no law saying cereal doesn’t count as dinner. Pull up a cushion and fill up a bowl, Tyler,” he finished, and Josh snorted into his milk. 

_When did this become reality?_ Tyler marveled quietly, stock-still in the doorframe as he looked in at the scene in the living room. He was so, so far from alone. 

Without saying a word, Tyler walked up behind the couch, wrapping his arms around Josh’s neck and burying his nose into his thick curls. 

Josh’s hands came up to meet his forearms right away. 

“You okay?” he said softly, and Tyler made a humming noise against his scalp. He smelled like soap and skin and Josh, and that musky men’s shampoo that Tyler could never bring himself to use. 

“Can’t believe I’m gonna be trapped in a van with all this cute nonsense for the rest of the summer,” came Mark’s voice from the other side of the couch. 

Tyler snapped his head up just as Josh said “wait, what are you talking about?” 

Mark looked from Josh to Tyler. “He still doesn’t know?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Tyler huffed. “I was waiting for Michael to be here.”

Mark just sighed. “Y’all need to communicate more, because I’m never clear on who knows what. Anyway, we’ve been-” 

“Shush,” Tyler said sharply, cutting him off. “I want to tell him.” 

Josh swiveled around again, raising an eyebrow. “Tell me what?” 

Tyler clutched at the back of the couch, using it to support his body weight as he rocked back and forth nervously on his heels. For some reason, an irrational part of his brain was still telling him that this was too much too soon, that it would overwhelm Josh, or make him walk away. 

“Okay, so we’ve been working hard - actually, Michael mostly, he’s been really helpful, which is surprising considering that he’s usually only good for hauling stuff, but-” 

“Get to the point,” Mark interjected rolling his eyes. “Or i’mma tell him f-” 

“So we’re going on tour for Regional at Best,” Tyler huffed out loudly before Mark got the chance. “After the release show at the high school. Nothing huge, just the four of us, and just for a few weeks, but still. Michael has been booking a bunch of stuff in surrounding states, and it’s definitely not going to be the most glamorous thing ever, but if you’re in, then-mmfph!”

He was cut off by Josh scrambling up the back of the couch to press their lips together forcefully. Tyler smiled into the kiss in spite of himself, and the weight of the day seemed to disappear from his body all at once. 

Josh pulled away, still facing him, kneeling the wrong way on the sofa and slinging his arms around Tyler’s neck. 

“ _I’m fucking in,_ ” he grinned, and Tyler’s heart swelled. 

“Language!” Mark scolded. “Also, I’m, like, right here. In case you’d forgotten. Although that never seems to be an issue for you guys.” 

“Shush, Mark,” said Josh, echoing Tyler’s earlier words, and Mark threw his hands up in surrender. 

“I’m _in,_ ” Josh repeated, smile huge and radiant, and Tyler mirrored his grin, leaning forward quickly to peck him on the lips.

“Good.” 

Josh held up the remaining half-box of waffle crisp. 

“Dinner?” he said, eyes crinkling up and tongue poking through his teeth. Tyler wondered vaguely whether it was normal that most of their dinner dates seemed to consist of cereal in their pajamas, while their other best friend was present. 

He swung himself over the arm of the couch, curling his legs underneath him and settling against Josh’s side as he reached into the box of cereal. 

_Normalcy,_ he decided, _was overrated._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So._ I know that updates these days are few and far between. I’m a college student, and my workload is really overwhelming, which means that it’s very hard for me to find time to write anything other than essays and more essays. I’m just as sad as you are when updates take a long time. Stick with me, frens!  <3


	13. It Must Be Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all are gonna like this one (I hope). Take it sløw.

The weather forecast had been terrible all week, and the days leading up to the CD release show had primarily been spent checking every available news source, comparing the different percentages for likelihood of rain. There was no plan B for this show, no place to move the crowd if the skies decided to open. Each of them knew all too well that if the elements were against them, their careful planning would all be for nothing. 

Tyler had been particularly high strung. Right up until the last minute, he’d been thumbing through his phone, or looking up despondently at the sky, _sure_ that everything would be ruined, that it was going to rain…

But it hadn’t; it hadn’t rained. The clouds had rolled in, the sky had softened and turned murky almost to the point that it looked green, and the wind had picked up leaves and sticks, knocking against their ankles as they set up the stage… but it hadn’t rained, even a single drop. As Michael put it, pointing upwards with a small smile as the crowd was filing in, _God was on our side this time._

It hadn’t rained while they were setting up the sound equipment, or while the dozens of vendors had been setting up their giant tubs of popcorn and cotton candy. The stage was slick from the accumulation of three-days worth of dampness, and the conditions definitely weren’t ideal, but the sky had held out. 

It had held out through the drama of where to put the drums, and how to angle the speakers, as five or six sound guys milled around the stage, shifting gear, and arguing with Chris and Travis about the monitor setup. And even though Tyler hating standing around and feeling useless, he was mostly just overwhelmed by the idea that these friends of his - these people who had nothing to do with the band, or who used to but didn’t anymore - were here, helping, today. 

The rain had held out, mercifully, when in a fit of restless and anxious energy, Tyler had climbed a set of PA shells while no one except Josh and Mark’s camera were watching. _You gonna climb that during Car Radio?_ Josh had murmured up to him, and Tyler had cracked a grin. _Easy._

It had held out, too, through Josh’s regular bout of nerves, right on schedule, as the crowd started to arrive. And, right on schedule, Tyler was there to calm him down, with hushed words and reassurances, with jokes to break the silence, and with his lips, warm and needy on Josh’s mouth in the makeshift dressing room five minutes before they went on.

God, it seemed, had learned their routine. Just as the music was getting started, the gray-green lack of rain began to give way to a warm and humid darkness, squandered and illuminated by the stark floodlights positioned at the foot of the stage, and on posts above their heads. From his vantage point at the piano, Tyler had a perfect view of the ghost-white faces of the crowd, from the sweaty high schoolers in the front row, to his family, cheerleading off to the side, all the way back to Ruby’s parents, hovering awkwardly but endearingly at the very back. 

Kitchen Sink had, perhaps, been the best part of the night; nothing in the universe had ever felt quite like the moment when Zack came onstage, or when, at the end of the song, all of the New Albany guys had drummed alongside them. _Don’t leave me alone,_ he had screamed, and he wasn’t, he _wasn’t._

The post-show euphoria was even stronger than usual that night, and Tyler could feel himself practically buzzing as he lingered by the side of the school, waiting for the others to gather up their things. Maybe it was the fact that even now that the crowd was gone, the rain still miraculously hadn’t come. Tyler had heard his Mom saying something about the storm system passing them to the east as he was walking offstage, but he had barely even registered the noise at the time. He was still riding the giddy high of the show, feeling utterly unconquerable. It seemed ridiculous to even entertain the idea of going home and going to sleep while he was feeling like this; and yet, going out with all the guys seemed equally unappealing, as if being around everyone would dull the feeling, or spoil it somehow. 

What he really wanted, more than anything else, was _Josh_ \- just Josh, alone, and away from the rest of it. 

“Tyler!” he heard a deep voice call, and looking up, came face to face with his father. 

“Dad,” he said softly, face splitting into a grin at the expression on his face. His father had come to a few gigs here and there in the past, but not since Josh had been in the band; and although he would never admit it, a part of Tyler was still fighting a constant battle to make his father proud.

Chris held his arms out, bending his knees slightly, and Tyler found himself rolling his eyes at the stereotypical dad-ness of everything he did. But nevertheless, he moved forward, letting himself be pulled into a tight hug. 

“That music of yours is really something, Tyler Joseph,” his dad said into his ear, clapping him on the back a few times before pulling away. “You’ve got quite a lot of kids going crazy for you these days!” 

Tyler huffed in amusement, scuffing at the ground with his feet. 

“What are you even doing back here?” he queried, furrowing his brow. “Where’s mom?” 

“Trying to peddle the last of the t-shirts. You know her,” Chris said with a laugh, and Tyler nodded smiling. “I wanted to come congratulate my boy, before you slipped off to boyfriend-land and we didn’t see you until next week.” 

Tyler’s eyes widened. He knew that his dad _knew_ about Josh - there was no way his mom wouldn’t have told him, and he’d definitely been present for one or two casual kisses on the cheek - but this was the first time he had ever brought it up.

“That’s… uh. Yeah.” 

His father’s eyes softened with amusement. “I like him, you know. I’ve always liked Josh. He’s a heck of a drummer, and he’s been a heck of a good friend to you all this time. And he seems to have managed to give you the courage to be yourself, which I probably owe him a thank-you for.” 

Tyler bit down on his lip, hard. Even though his dad wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know, something about hearing it coming from him - from the person he’d spent so long trying to impress - made it all seem somehow permissible, and undeniable.

“Dad,” he said again softly, feeling his voice break as he spoke. He brought his gaze up to his father’s eyes, deep brown and understanding. “I love him.” 

“Oh Tyler,” Chris said, a warm smile taking over his face. “I know you do, son.” 

He bit his lip, breathing in slowly through his nose. 

“I am very, very proud of you,” his father went on, and Tyler ducked his head awkwardly, scuffing his shoe harder. “I still don’t understand the first thing about music, but I know that it makes you happier than basketball ever did. And, you know, besides that, you’re... “ he paused, clapping a hand to Tyler’s shoulder, and forcing him to look up. “You’re having an impact on these kids. I know how high schoolers work, and your music has gotten hold of them, Tyler. And you and Josh have so far still to go, and so many kids still to reach.” 

And before Tyler could open his mouth, his father was pulling him back into a fast, bone-crushing hug. 

“Now,” he said, pulling away and walking back towards the front of the building, and smirking slightly. “Go find your boy.” 

For a few seconds, Tyler just felt rooted to the spot, unable to move or even think. But then a warm euphoria started spreading through his veins, adding to the high that he was already riding from the success of the show. If he was on top of the world before, his dad’s words had put him on top of the universe. 

“Hey space-face,” he heard a voice say behind him, and he turned to see his drummer, hair ruffled and face flushed, walking towards him with a grin. “You forgot your entire gig bag back there, so I’m not sure what you were planning to -” he began, before he was cut off by Tyler pulling him around the side of the building, and pressing him up against the wall to kiss him, _hard._ Josh made a tiny noise of surprise, lips taking a moment to yield to Tyler’s before they were falling back into their familiar, heated rhythm. 

He pulled away suddenly, leaving Josh dazed, lips parted and hair even more mussed as he leaned against the wall. 

“I don’t…” Tyler began, casting his gaze downward, and moving forward to tug awkwardly at the hem of Josh’s shirt. “I don’t really want to go home yet.” 

He tilted his head up to meet Josh’s eyes, and Josh huffed out a shaky breath, lips parting in wordless understanding. They both understood what Tyler was asking for, and why; and that Josh - cautious, nervous, Josh - would never have been the one to suggest it. 

“Come with me then,” Josh said simply, voice low. “Dustin will be out partying. You can… stay,” he added, and Tyler nodded, smiling in spite of himself. 

“Okay.”

 

\--------

 

The ride to Josh’s apartment was unusually silent. Tyler rode with his knees bent and feet propped up on the dashboard, and spent most of the time fiddling at a hole in his skinny jeans and biting his lip. Josh eventually gave up trying to read his face, in favor of actually keeping his eyes on the road, but he still appreciated the small smile and huff of air that he earned when he stretched out a hand to rest on Tyler’s thigh. 

When they finally arrived, lowering themselves out of the pick-up, Josh’s mind wandered suddenly back to the last time he had stood with Tyler in this driveway after a show, and the confusion and hurt that had come along with such a tiny gesture as an embrace, and the brush of lips against skin… but this time, Tyler wouldn’t leave him here, or drive away without explanation. They were each other’s, and they didn’t have to pretend. 

He remembered how warm and terrifying Tyler’s breath had been that night after the Athens gig, how tentative and guilty, and all at once, he found himself struck with the urge to relive that moment. He wanted to do it all over again, this time knowing that it was going to end not in denial and anguish, but in love and care and _good._ Before Tyler could make his way any further down the driveway, Josh grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around into a tight hug. Tyler let out a sudden huff of laughter, bringing his arms up to wrap around his back, as Josh pressed his nose into the crook of his neck, letting his lips brush dryly and sweetly against the skin. 

“I know exactly what you’re doing,” Tyler huffed playfully, pulling back, eyes serious despite his smile. “Don’t… don’t think I don’t remember.”

“Mmmm,” Josh responded, ducking back in and trailing his lips further back until they were pressed right against Tyler’s ear. 

“Come upstairs,” he whispered, nipping gently at the skin, and Tyler sighed in reply. 

“Yeah.” 

It took them much longer than it should have to get up to the apartment, both of them tripping and sniggering over and over as Tyler attempted to forcibly pull Josh along with him. When they finally stumbled through the door, Josh couldn’t help but feel like this was all a little too much like a movie; that after their year of false starts and quiet, prolonged desperation, this indulgent normalcy was almost absurd. 

He wasn’t complaining, though. Especially not when Tyler was kicking off his shoes and fluffing his hair with both hands, smiling softly as he headed straight for Josh’s bedroom without a single word. _Maybe,_ thought Josh, as he silently followed Tyler into his room, _this was really just fairness, or the laws of equilibrium;_ maybe the universe was granting them this one moment of simplicity after months and months of tortured denial. He was pretty sure they deserved it. 

Josh had barely gotten inside his bedroom door before Tyler was taking him by the shoulders and pressing him firmly against the wall for the second time that night. 

"Hey," he grinned, and Josh rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue between his teeth in a giddy smile. This version of Tyler, this utterly carefree and confident version that only really appeared after a good show, gave him all kinds of butterflies. 

Tyler crinkled up his eyes, leaning forward to peck a kiss onto his open mouth, lips colliding with his teeth. Josh hummed, closing his jaw and trying to capture Tyler's lips, but Tyler just stuck his tongue out, smirking and licking into Josh's mouth. 

"I can't... Tylerrrr," Josh hummed, breathless affection bubbling out of him in the form of a giggle. "Can't kiss you when you're... mmmmph - smiling like that..." 

Nevertheless, Tyler kept going, bumping their mouths awkwardly together through his grin, and huffing out little giggles every time their teeth knocked against each other. He ran his fingers along the front of Josh's neck, light enough to tickle, and Josh was forced to screw up his face and hunch his shoulders in defense.

"You're - you suck," Josh mumbled against Tyler's mouth.

"Bite me," he replied teasingly, and Josh did, taking Tyler's bottom lip between his teeth and tugging at it gently. The gesture pulled a quiet whine from Tyler's throat; Josh felt him slacken a little against his chest, and all at once, the joking was over. He took Tyler's face in his palm, and then they were kissing in earnest - gentle, and slow, and monumental. 

Josh was glad to find that the hurried desperation of their first time at the festival had melted away into softness and comfort. It was the warmest thing that he had ever felt. He had realized at the very start of all this that trust - true, infallible trust - did not come easily to Tyler. Knowing that he had been granted that privilege made it feel to Josh like he was holding on to something delicate and otherworldly. 

He felt warm, tentative hands pawing at his hips, and realized that Tyler was trying to tug his shirt up. Josh broke their kiss long enough for Tyler to pull the tank top over his head, before swiftly doing the same to his own. They pressed back into each other, the sensation of warm skin-on-skin heightening every movement now, and Josh could feel the beginnings of arousal coursing through his bloodstream. 

Tyler seemed to be a step ahead of him. 

"Off," he muttered, voice high but firm, and he reached out a hand to tug at Josh's waistband. He braced himself against the wall, shoulders rising and falling as he let himself be undressed, the button of his jeans giving way to Tyler's fumbling hands. 

"You too," he murmured, reaching a blind hand out for Tyler's zipper, but meeting instead with the hard, solid outline of his dick in his jeans. His fingers brushed against the bulge involuntarily, and Tyler was suddenly moaning into his neck, all attempts at getting in Josh's pants abandoned as he was overtaken by the sensation of Josh's hand. 

"Please," Tyler whispered, barely audibly, as if he wasn't sure whether he was allowed to say it out loud.

Josh responded by roughly palming at the front of his jeans, and heard another strangled groan die in Tyler's throat. The sound was muffled even further where his mouth was pressing into his neck, and Josh suddenly found himself desperate to hear Tyler lose it, succumbing to every automatic response, modesty be damned. 

He leaned in, hot breath brushing against the shell of Tyler's ear. 

"Nobody's home," he purred, and Tyler's jaw slackened further, letting the tiniest hint of a whimper escape. "You can be - _ahh_ \- as loud as you want." 

Josh didn't even give him a moment to respond before he was pulling back, biting Tyler's collar bone gently and palming his crotch at the same time. The tortured groan that the sudden onslaught tore from Tyler's throat might have been the loudest and hottest thing that Josh had ever heard. 

And Tyler didn't stop - he was letting out a litany of breathy sounds into Josh's ear now, grinding himself harder against his hand in a desperate attempt for relief. But Josh was determined for this not to devolve into messy handjobs against the wall; he finally had the time and the space to make Tyler slowly fall apart for him, and he wasn't going to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. 

Fortunately, Tyler seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Shoving off the wall, he began walking himself backwards towards the bed, pulling Josh along with him. They stumbled blindly, still lost in each other's hands and mouths, until the back of Tyler's legs hit the mattress, and he was falling back into a sitting position, hands coming to clutch at Josh's waist. 

He felt Tyler’s hands pause for a moment where they were gripped in the waistband of his underwear, and Josh looked down to see him staring up at him, eyes wide, reverent, and heavy. Time seemed to slow down a little, as Josh’s heart thrummed in his chest; even though a desperate, carnal part of him was telling him _faster, faster,_ another part of his mind - the one that contained all of his affection for the boy in front of him - wanted to make this last as long as possible. 

Josh cupped one hand against the side of Tyler’s cheek, reaching the other one out to brush the fluffy hair off of his forehead. He combed his fingers through it once twice, and Tyler let his eyes fall shut, leaning into Josh's hand where it rested against his cheek. Tyler reached up to trace delicate patterns onto the skin of his stomach, tilting his head back up to look at him as if he were staring up at the sky - and Josh couldn't wait any longer. 

Still moving slowly, he brought his arms under Tyler's shoulders, laying him down lengthwise on the bed and positioning himself so that he hovered over him, wriggling the rest of the way out of his jeans as he went.

“Josh,” Tyler breathed, and Josh responded with a soft hum, mouthing greedily along the hollow of his throat.

 _“Jossshhh,”_ he repeated, the sound turning into a choked moan. He pulled up to see Tyler flushed, almost sheepish, pupils blown and lips bitten as he grabbed at his shoulder. “I need… shit, _God,_ I… I _need_ …” 

“Shhh…” Josh soothed, running a hand gently over the top of Tyler’s chest. “I know. I’ve got you.” 

He bit his lip, but relaxed measurably, nodding once. Josh felt his heart throb again, and suddenly the only thing that mattered in the entire universe was making this as good as possible for Tyler. He pressed a single kiss to Tyler’s lips before blindly extending a hand back down, searching for his waistband. 

“This okay?” Josh murmured, lips brushing against his ear, and Tyler hummed in assent, the skin of his chest taut and practically vibrating as Josh began to undo the button of his jeans. Tyler practically groaned in relief when he finally got the zipper down, the sound breaking into a full blown whine as Josh wrapped a hand around his dick through the fabric of his underwear. 

“Off, I want… o-off,” Tyler grumbled, fidgeting his hips in an attempt to shimmy his jeans and boxers down. Josh grinned, sitting back on his knees and dipping his hands under both layers of clothing again, tugging down gently and tossing Tyler's pants somewhere behind them. 

A chill ran down Josh’s spine, and he forced himself to pause, reveling in the luxury of seeing Tyler like this, naked and spread out beneath him. Everything had been so dark and rushed the last time, and he hadn't really, truly been able to take in his boyfriend, in all his glory; now that he had the chance, he was going to enjoy every second of it.

The blush that had started on Tyler's face as soon as they reached the bed had begun to creep down his neck now. It spread in patches over his chest, which gave way to the soft skin of his stomach, ending finally in the sharp curve of his hip bones, jutting out in a v-shape. 

And then - _God_ \- there was Tyler, all of Tyler, his dick hard and flushed and bobbing expectantly against his stomach. That, coupled with his tousled hair and red-bitten lips, made him look so incredibly flustered and ready that Josh honestly had to remember to keep breathing. 

"What?" Tyler mumbled, cheeks dusting pink again as he fidgeted under Josh's awestruck gaze. 

"Nothing," he breathed. He looked pretty, Josh realized, and he had to will the thought away before it overtook him entirely. "Just... sorry. You're... just. Sorry." 

Tyler's blush deepened, and Josh surged forward to kiss him again, brushing a hand through the long hair at the top of his head. He was already so far gone. 

They kept pressing into each other, hungry lips meeting over and over, and Josh was just starting to think that he could probably do this forever and forget about all the rest of it, when, in one swift motion, he felt Tyler buck his hips up against his, making their crotches drag hotly together, and tearing a surprised sound from both of their lungs. He looked up to meet Tyler’s gaze, both of them panting slightly, and the awe and _want_ that he found in Tyler’s eyes had Josh immediately diving back in, licking and nipping greedily at his neck. 

He pressed one hand gingerly to Tyler’s side, holding him tightly, and reaching the other one down to lace the fingers of his right hand with Tyler's left. It was the most natural gesture in the world for him, and Tyler responded with a simple squeeze of his fingers, both a signal of trust and a plea to continue. 

Without letting go of his hand, Josh inched himself down the bed, trailing his open mouth down Tyler's stomach until his head was level with his dick. 

He pressed a few feather-light kisses to his hip bones and the insides of his thighs, trying to prolong the rush of anticipation, but Tyler was already grasping at his shoulder and whimpering for more, and Josh decided to give it to him. They had passed the point of teasing now, and were running purely on need. Neither of them wanted to wait another second. 

Gripping Tyler's hips gently to hold them both steady, he lowered his head down, taking just the tip of Tyler's dick into his mouth. He felt Tyler fall back with a gasp, head hitting the pillow as his hips twitched gently upward. Josh couldn’t believe how _good_ this was, having the power to make Tyler fall apart like this with just his mouth. 

He took him a little farther in, running his tongue up and down the underside of his dick. It had been a long, long, time since Josh had done this, but it didn't matter - he seemed to be relying far more on instinct than skill anyway. Every movement his lips made was guided not by rational choice or experience, but by the overpowering desire to make Tyler feel as good as possible. 

Willing his throat to relax, Josh made eye contact with him one last time before taking his length in all the way, letting himself gag and be stretched; it was worth it ten times over to hear Tyler's guttural groan, and feel his torso reflexively surge up off the bed at the feeling of being swallowed.

Breathing heavily through his nose, Josh began to bob his head slowly, working his tongue along the underside of Tyler’s shaft. He hummed softly as a drop of precome pulsed over his tongue, and pulled back to dip his tongue into Tyler’s slit, letting go of his grip on Tyler’s hand so that he could move a soothing palm up and down the side of his stomach. 

He felt fingers clutching at his hair, and looked up to see Tyler’s arm outstretched, grasping softly at his curls. 

“Good?” Josh hummed, smiling. 

“ _So_ good,” Tyler affirmed breathlessly, eyes twinkling and mouth quirking up. 

Josh kissed the head of his cock once more before engulfing his length in wet heat again, gagging briefly, until his nose was nestled into soft skin and short, downy hair. Tyler gasped at that, hips bucking up involuntarily, making Josh’s eyes water. He kept going nonetheless, tonguing at the base and hollowing his cheeks, pulling every trick he knew to make Tyler fall to pieces. It only took a few more bobs of his head before Tyler was twisting his hands in Josh's hair, digging his fingers in so that he was forced to pull off. 

"Josh," he panted, pulling him up the bed holding him at arm’s length, eyes glazed and dark. He watched Tyler take in a shuddering breath, looking into Josh’s eyes and waiting until the last moment before his exhale to speak in a strained whisper: 

_"Fuck me."_

Josh let himself fall forward, catching himself on his elbows, and bracing his head against Tyler’s shoulder as he tried to keep from coming apart altogether. 

" _God,_ Tyler," he choked out, still panting and clutching at his shoulder. "Holy _shit._ ” 

Never in his life would Josh have imagined hearing those words come out of Tyler's mouth, and it had his heart beating faster than he had ever thought possible. 

"You sure?" he breathed, staring at him earnestly and watching for any signs of uncertainty. 

Tyler looked back at him with a yearning, almost pained expression. " _Please,_ Josh," he panted, and Josh didn’t need to be told twice. 

He pulled back quickly, leaning over to reach into the drawer of his bedside table, and fumbling around for a condom and a bottle of lube. (He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been very prepared for this eventuality - but there was _no way in hell_ that he was going get Tyler into his bed and not be ready.) He turned around to find Tyler splayed out on his back, chest heaving and hands grabbing at the sheets in anticipation. He looked utterly lusty, utterly captivated by Josh’s movements above him, and, Josh realized, just the slightest bit scared. Setting the lube and condom at his side, he pulled himself forward again, propping himself up on his arms and kissing Tyler’s forehead sweetly. 

“I’m gonna go slow, okay?” he breathed, and Tyler hummed appreciatively. 

Sitting back on his heels, Josh began to gently nudge Tyler’s legs apart, bending his knees and drawing them upward. He saw Tyler bite his lip, turning his head to the side, and Josh rubbed an encouraging hand over the crease between his thigh and his hip bone. He knew from experience how vulnerable it felt to be in this position, legs spread, bearing everything for the other person. He also knew that Tyler, who had spent so long denying himself the reality of his attraction, who’d wanted and waited and hidden behind false confidence, probably felt especially exposed. 

Josh spoke before he could stop himself. 

“You’re gorgeous, Ty.” 

He was expecting an eyeroll, maybe a huff, but found himself rewarded instead with a low whine and a blush. Josh’s heart expanded and contracted almost painfully as he uncapped the lube, watching the way that Tyler’s eyes followed his every motion. He adjusted himself between Tyler’s spread legs, moving a hand down to gently tease one slick finger around his hole, dipping it just the tiniest bit inside. 

"Josh," Tyler whimpered, and he paused, ready to stop immediately at the slightest indication. But Tyler just stared up at him, face heavy with emotion. " _Josh,_ " he repeated, breathless. "I trust you so much."

He felt his affection for Tyler surge to a point that was almost too much to bear, and once again, for several moments, he genuinely had to remind himself to breathe.

"Tyler..." he whispered, casting his eyes over the boy spread open underneath him. He leaned over to press a litany of kisses to Tyler's face as slowly, subtly, he pushed one finger inside him. 

He felt Tyler tighten around him, clenching his legs around Josh's hips at the unfamiliar feeling. 

"Shhh," Josh cooed, surprising even himself with how calm and controlled he was managing to be. But when it came to Tyler's comfort, some kind of instinct seemed to be kicking in, infusing each of his actions with tender protectiveness. 

He brought his unoccupied hand back to rest on the outside of Tyler's thigh, rubbing soothing circles into the skin in an attempt to relax him. 

"Okay?" he whispered, and Tyler nodded, muscles softening slightly. 

“Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s just… it’s okay now. It’s _good._ ” 

Josh nodded approvingly, stroking up and down Tyler’s thigh once more before pushing his finger a little farther in. He felt Tyler unclenching, breathing a heavy sigh as he let Josh start to open him up, and when Josh opened his mouth to ask if he was ready for two, Tyler nodded eagerly before even hearing the question. 

By the time Josh had gotten three fingers into his boyfriend, he could feel his own senses starting to give way to a hazy cloud of arousal, which was spiking dramatically every time Tyler pushed his hips down, whimpering and searching for more. 

“ _God,_ Tyler,” he murmured again in a strangled voice, and was rewarded with a low, rough moan. 

“I’m - p-please, I’m...” Tyler said in a sheepish, barely-audible whisper, eyelids fluttering and hips bucking downward. “I’m ready, Josh, _please_. C-can you... _please._ ” 

It took a few seconds for his words to register in Josh’s brain, but when they finally fought through the the fog at the front of his brain, he had to catch himself from falling. He’d never heard Tyler like this, ever, and he didn't even know how to begin wrapping his head around it.

He realized that in his determination to make things as good as possible for Tyler, he had nearly forgotten about his own aching erection. Only now that he had been reminded of what he was supposed to be preparing for did Josh realize how truly desperate he was for relief, arousal coursing through every inch of his body. He sat back far enough to strip his boxers off, and when he turned back, he saw that Tyler’s eyes had glazed over a little, mouth slack and open slightly, and Josh felt his cheeks growing hot under his downward gaze. 

He reached for the condom lying at Tyler’s side, but felt an arm on his wrist, holding him back. 

"Can I do it?" whispered Tyler, voice surprisingly level, and Josh's eyes widened, flicking up to meet his. 

"Fuck," he breathed, holding out the package to Tyler. "Yes... yeah." 

He sat back on his knees, watching Tyler fumble with the condom for a second before rolling it slowly, almost reverently, down Josh's dick, giving it a few languid strokes that made Josh toss his head back and groan. He reached for the lube once more, slicking himself up thoroughly before gently hooking his arms under Tyler’s knees and drawing them upwards again. 

Josh aligned himself with Tyler’s entrance, holding steady to the inside of his knee. Tilting his head to the side, he gave one final, mouthy kiss to the inner skin of Tyler’s thigh, before pressing his dick a few inches into him. The heat around his head was almost overwhelming, and Josh had to steady himself for a good moment, biting hard at his lower lip. He heard Tyler’s breath hitching and breaking, and looked down to see him squirming against the sheets, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back on the pillow. 

Josh redoubled his grip on the underside of Tyler’s knee, bringing his other hand down to cup the side of his head.

“Need me to stop?” he breathed into the space between their mouths, and Tyler shook his head, fast, trembling, and resolute. 

“No. _Want you,_ ” Tyler gasped, and Josh felt a shiver rip through him. 

It took the combined effort of every muscle in Josh’s body to keep himself balanced as he slid his length deeper, every inch of tightness feeling like its own tiny death. 

He felt Tyler’s thighs begin to shake and tremble where they were clamped around his hips, sending waves of satisfaction down Josh’s spine as he gently pulled himself out, and in one smooth motion, thrust back into Tyler with the gentle force of his entire heart and body. 

Tyler bucked his hips up to meet Josh’s, a strangled whine issuing from his chest. Spurred on by his sounds of pleasure, Josh started to thrust in earnest, still moving slowly, but finding ecstatic friction again and again as Tyler clenched and trembled around him. He felt hands clutching in the short hair at the back of his neck, and he pulled back slightly to see Tyler biting his bottom lip so hard that it was starting to turn white. 

“Talk to me,” Josh breathed, surprised that he was able to get any words out at all while he was buried this deep inside Tyler. “Tell me…” he broke off, gasping for air. “Want to hear you...” 

“J-Jo...hosh...” Tyler tried, choking on Josh’s name in a sound that was almost like a sob. “I need…” His words gave way to a soft whine, and Josh picked up his rhythm again, sliding his hips forward over and over. Tyler was moaning almost continuously now, a soft, tortured sound that broke and hitched rhythmically along with each new roll of Josh’s hips. Josh couldn't help but admire the way that Tyler’s eyelids fluttered and his mouth hung open in ecstasy, and without thinking, he reached down a hand and brushed his thumb against Tyler’s bottom lip, pressing down gently. Josh kept his thumb there for several moments, brushing it back and forth over his lip, until touching wasn’t enough, and he was ducking forward to press their mouths together, kissing and fucking Tyler slowly. 

"Can you - ahhh," Tyler groaned against Josh’s mouth, bucking up involuntarily to meet his hips. "You can... Josh… _more,_ ” he choked out, and Josh felt himself throb painfully inside him. 

"Shit, Ty," he choked out, but he obliged immediately. Gripping Tyler’s hips for leverage, Josh quickened his pace slightly, deepening the movement of his own hips as he rocked into him, over and over again. 

They had finally built up a steady pace, punctuated by each of their heavy breaths and little gasps and grunts, until one particularly deep thrust had Tyler bucking off the bed, a strangled scream tearing out of his throat as he tugged fitfully at Josh's hair. 

"Holy - that - _Joshhh,_ " Tyler babbled, as Josh angled his dick to rub along his prostate over and over, drawing strangled whines from Tyler’s throat with every movement. He almost didn't have to consciously tell his hips to roll forward and back anymore; it was as if some external force was moving the two of them, keeping them rocking rhythmically against each other as Josh moved inside of him. 

Almost unconsciously, Josh reached an arm out to the side, over to where Tyler’s sweaty hand was clutching desperately at the sheets, and lacing their fingers tightly together, for a lifeline, or for closeness, or both. Josh’s muscles were shaking with exertion, and the vibrations traveled through up Tyler’s wrist, making both of them tremble slightly as he snapped his hips forward _again, again, again._

As much as Josh wanted this to last forever, he could feel warmth starting to churn and tighten in his stomach, warning him of his imminent release. Every warm and tight thrust was bringing him closer to the edge, and Tyler seemed to be capsizing just as quickly, his composure dissolving right along with Josh’s. He felt so immersed in their motion that his body didn’t even know if he was fucking or being fucked; he was so wrapped up in Tyler - emotionally and physically - that every drag against his prostate seemed to double back on Josh, adding to his own pleasure. 

Josh watched Tyler slowly move a hand - consciously or not - towards his aching and untouched dick, but he caught it in his own before it reached its destination, making Tyler whine in frustration. 

"Let me - ah -" Josh grunted out, before wrapping a hand around Tyler's length, and without warning or preamble, he began to pump it vigorously, doubling the pace of his thrusts. 

He had Tyler at his breaking point within seconds; the combined rhythm of his hip and his hand brought him over the edge, bucking and tensing in Josh’s arms.

Perhaps for the first time all evening, Tyler went completely silent, throat closing and back arching off the mattress in a silent cry as his orgasm overtook him; and then, all at once, he was choking on air, gasping for breath as he came all over his chest and stomach, still rutting involuntarily into Josh’s fist. 

Josh let himself fall all the way down, pressing their foreheads together and kissing Tyler’s chin briefly, panting into his open mouth. It only took a few more erratic, exhausted jerks of his hips before he was coming too, with Tyler still clenching around him, in little tremors and aftershocks that worked him through his release. 

He felt like he had melted entirely into Tyler, both of their chests heaving in tandem, as if they were breathing, shakily and desperately, into the same pair of lungs. Even as the peak of his physical pleasure started to subside, Josh was becoming confident that this was a high that he would never quite come down from. 

He ran a trembling hand through Tyler’s hair, kissing his cheek slowly and sweetly before gently pulling out, tying the condom and throwing it in the general direction of his waste basket. Ignoring the fact that they were both a mess, Josh turned back and languidly kissed his way up Tyler’s body until they were pressed together again, before burying his face into Tyler’s shoulder. 

Josh felt something hot welling up in his chest and behind his eyes, and he had to consciously will himself not to start crying again. He still couldn’t quite believe that he’d cried the last time, and he had attributed his emotional fragility to the _firstness_ of that whole encounter, but something about all of this still felt overwhelming to the point of breaking, and Josh was starting to doubt whether he’d ever stop feeling this way after being with Tyler; the closeness, the warmth, and the vulnerability that followed sex with him seemed even more intimate than the event itself.

He let his resolve break for just a second, and felt a soft, breathy sob heave out of him, muffled in Tyler’s shoulder; and although he recovered immediately, tightening his throat to silence himself, it was too late - tears were already mingling with sweat on Tyler’s skin, and his arms were coming up to hold Josh tightly, one around his back, and one clutching at his hair. Josh took a calculated breath in through his nose, willing himself to keep his composure, but it was already slipping, and every breath he took was watery and shaky. 

Without loosening his grip around Josh’s back, Tyler pushed up against him gently, rolling them both onto their sides so that they faced each other. Josh kept his face pressed tightly against his neck, partly so that Tyler wouldn’t see him falling apart, and partly because he didn’t ever, ever want to leave the warm valley of his boyfriend’s soft skin. He knew that he was probably supposed to say something, but instead he settled for pressing his mouth into Tyler’s neck over and over, hoping that each kiss would communicate the feeling that he couldn’t even begin to articulate, that he didn’t think there were even words in the English language to describe. 

“Josh,” Tyler said softly, reaching up a hand to stroke soothingly through his curls. Josh felt Tyler nudge him, forcing him to pull back a little, and he noticed with a twinge that his eyes, while laced with tenderness, were glassy with tears as well. He readjusted his arms to wrap tightly around Tyler’s waist, and felt Tyler’s hands come up to cradle the sides of his face, swiping his thumbs over the hollows of Josh’s eyes to brush away tears. 

For a long while, they just stared at each other, Tyler’s still brushing a thumb over his cheek, eyes deep and brows furrowed, before closing in to kiss Josh, soft and slow and meaningful. Somehow, Josh thought it was the best kiss he’d ever had. 

And then Tyler was pulling away slowly to give him a weak but heartfelt smile. 

“ _Josh, thank you,_ ” he was whispering, and Josh frowned in confusion, before everything was suddenly flooding back to him, and he remembered that it hadn’t just been their first time, it had been Tyler’s _first time_. The realization sent a tremor through his body, and he inhaled sharply and heavily. He tightening his grip around Tyler, pulling him closer and nuzzling their foreheads together. 

Josh parted his lips to speak - to praise Tyler, to tell him how good and perfect he had been, and to thank him for his trust - but he couldn’t seem to find his voice where it was still buried under the lump in his throat.

“I -” he croaked, staring intensely at Tyler. “I… you know that you… _God._ ” It felt like the words were drowning in the back of his mouth, struggling to pass his lips in kind of coherent order. “You’re fucking… _fuck,_ you’re _everything,_ Tyler, you - get that, right?” he managed, voice breaking. 

“Shhh,” was Tyler’s only reply, doubling his grip on Josh’s cheek. 

Then, all at once, Tyler’s face was breaking out into a huge, brilliant smile, his eyes twinkling and crooked teeth showing. And something about the vast joy and simplicity of his grin made Josh burst into a smile too, suddenly overwhelmed by happiness of all of this - of being naked in bed next to his best friend in the universe, who he was utterly, unfathomably in love with. 

He rolled over slightly, shifting to curl an arm around Tyler, who took the opportunity to curl into his side and bury his head into the hollow of Josh’s chest. 

“We make a good team,” Josh heard him whisper, voice muffled and soft. 

Josh beamed even brighter, heart singing as he pulled Tyler’s head tighter against him. 

“Yeah, we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus forgive my sins.


	14. I'll Stay Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try not to feel bad about breaks between updates, but I want to acknowledge that I know this was a long one, and to apologize for that. 
> 
> All of you guys’ continued dedication to this fic, both here and elsewhere, means a great deal to me. This was a tough few weeks, so I thank you for waiting. Also sorry, this is - l o n g - - - posting this feels like birthing a child that I have carried way past term.

“There’s no one here,” Tyler said, pushing open the door of the green room and tossing Josh a bottle of water. “I just checked with Michael,” he continued, lips twitching up in amusement as he went on. “And no one’s here to see us.” 

Josh blinked. He knew better than to be thrown off by Tyler’s grin.

“No one?” he said tentatively.

Tyler shrugged, dropping onto the couch opposite Josh. “Like, ten people so far.” 

Although he’d never been in this for the crowds or the recognition, Josh was still adjusting to the idea of playing for an empty room. It was unsettling, but somehow exciting at the same time.  
It wasn’t as if either of them had expected a huge turnout for this show, of course. This wasn’t Columbus, or the Newport; it was some shitty dive bar on the trashy side of Chicago, where practically no one had even heard of them in the first place. 

“That sucks,” he finally huffed, not knowing what else to say. 

“It sucks, yeah,” Tyler confirmed, a smile tugging at his lips as he swigged from his water. “It’s the worst. We’re going to be playing for ten people who’ve never heard of us, in a disgusting basement, six hours from home.” 

“Yeah,” Josh said blankly, frowning. 

“Yeah,” he mimicked. 

Josh watched him re-cap his water bottle, chucking it onto the other end of the couch, and crossing his ankles on the coffee table. 

“Yeah,” Tyler repeated, smiling broadly, without a hint of facetiousness. “I freaking love shows like this.” 

At the sight of his grin, Josh’s heart swelled hugely and inexplicably. By now, he had probably grown closer to Tyler than he’d ever been to anyone else, but there were still things that he couldn’t get used to, including the highly improbable places from which Tyler seemed to draw his motivation - tiny crowds, apparently, being one of them. 

For Josh, it had always been simple: you needed to draw an audience, and a better crowd meant a better show. But Tyler, it seemed, lived by the idea that even though more people - tons of people, the _most_ people - was the ultimate goal, it was almost as if they didn’t deserve it yet. They hadn’t earned the numbers. They still had to prove themselves - and that’s what this tour was all about. 

At least, that was part of it. And the tour was about nerves and exhilaration too, and the hot affection that coursed through Josh’s core whenever Tyler did anything onstage. Amidst the dirty venues, tiny crowds, and hardly any pay, there was the rugged intimacy and satisfaction of close quarters - sleeping pressed against each other on a mattress pad in the back of the van, sharing space and limbs and sweat. 

And it was that sort of closeness that made this whole tour feel like a dream - even more so than the last few months had. It was surreal to watch the country go by, probably more of it than he’d ever seen in his life. Sometimes Josh wondered if he’d just started dreaming the minute he’d met Tyler; in the moments between music and affection and comfort, Josh found himself constantly terrified that he was going to wake up. 

Nevertheless, even in adventure, there was monotony; van rides offered little more to do than to stare out at the highway rolling away underneath them, and wonder if this was real. So he passed the time by watching Tyler, spent hours of quiet exhaustion trying to memorize the geometry of his lips where they swelled away from his face like full, red flowers. 

There were times - in the van, or moments like this one, while Tyler’s legs were curled under him on the beat up green room couch - when Josh felt positive that they must be thinking the same thing. That this, all of this, was too much for the human mind to hold; like their bodies weren't sufficient vessels to contain the impact they wanted to make on the world, and on each other. 

Tyler’s voice dragged Josh back into reality.

“You know that it will be like this for most of the tour,” he said, only a hint of a question in his tone. He had, Josh realized, mistaken his silence for annoyance. “Could just be the bartender and a few drunk guys some nights. Could be random kids, or no one.” 

Josh nodded almost imperceptibly. He knew.

He unfolded his legs, moving to stand up, to walk over and explain to Tyler with his lips and his hands that he _knew,_ but unfortunately, Mark chose that moment to walk in, leaving Josh trapped on the couch, his eyes still locked with Tyler’s. 

“So, there’s -” 

“No one here,” Josh finished. “Yeah. No biggie.” 

Mark raised an eyebrow, but Tyler looked pleased. 

“Yeah,” Mark shrugged. “But, you know. That’s roughly what we expected. We’ll get a better turn out for the Ohio shows.”

This - hope - was a language they could all speak. 

“Yeah,” Josh agreed, standing up and stretching as he pulled his drumsticks out of his back pocket. “And for the Chicago shows. You know. When we come back here.”

He stood up, making his way towards the door, and heading for the backstage area. He swore he felt Tyler’s smiling eyes on him the whole way. 

 

\--------

 

Tyler supposed that if you counted the three or four guys at the bar, the crowd totaled about fifteen people altogether. It didn’t bother him. He’d played for less.

Somehow, if possible, Josh seemed to be hitting his drums even harder than usual tonight. And while Tyler normally took that to be symptomatic of Josh’s near-constant state of nervousness at shows, it seemed like something else this time. It was almost as if, through the assault and battery of his drum kit, he was trying to wordlessly convey what Tyler already knew: that he was _in this,_ no matter what; that even for an audience of one, he would have Tyler’s back. 

The idea that Josh could somehow communicate all of this better through kick beats and crashes and fills than he could through words brought a smile to Tyler’s face that stayed there for the entire set. After all, when all was said and done, Josh’s was the only approval he sought. 

Three songs from the end of their set, a flurry of motion to the right of the stage dragged Tyler’s attention away from the laptop, where he had been bent over and queueing up the next track. He peeked over the top of the screen to see Michael whispering something to Josh, who was bent over to listen. Frowning, he started to make his way over towards them, but at the last minute, Josh turned and crossed the stage, meeting him halfway in a hushed whisper.

“He wants to know if we’re still planning on doing Anathema,” he murmured. “You know, since there’s so few people. He wants to know if we still want him to bring out the drums. 

Tyler scanned the line of people. 

“It might look dumb,” Josh went on. “Like, just… me sitting in the middle of the floor.” He frowned, chewing his lip. 

Tyler hugged his arms to his chest. Even if Josh was right, and it looked dumb, this felt like a matter of principle. They should put on the same show for ten people as they would for a hundred, every night, no matter what. 

“I think we should do it,” he decided.“It’ll be like a trial-run, I guess, for the shows with more people. And anyway, we owe it to the ones who stuck around.” 

He watched a giant, gleaming smile spread out across Josh’s face, wrinkling his cheeks and the skin around his eyes.

“Good plan, captain,” he murmured, sticking his tongue out through his teeth. He clapped Tyler quickly on the arm before jogging to the side of the stage and whispering an affirmative into Michael’s ear. 

Tyler moved back to the laptop, turning his head and speaking to the crowd as he went. 

“Sorry about that, friends,” he intoned, slipping back into his stage presence with ease. “Just working out some setlist-related things. But we have a few more songs for you guys, is that cool?” 

A few people down towards Josh’s side of the line gave a shy cheer, and Tyler ducked his head, smiling to himself. He wondered if they, out of all of these strangers, had come just for them. 

“So,” he went on, taking his place behind the keyboard. “This next one is called Anathema. Maybe some of you know it.” He flicked his gaze up to the girls on the right, and found their faces painted with excited recognition. Immediately, he was glad that they had chosen to keep the drumming stunt. Even in a crowd of no one, there was always _someone._ There were people in their corner wherever they went. 

And who knew that this small song he’d written with Josh, so last minute that it almost hadn’t made it on the album, would be something fans six hours from home could recognize. Back in June, Tyler had resisted its simplicity. It had seemed unlikely at first that such a slow, simple beat - and such repetitive, uncomplicated lyrics - would hold the attention of the crowd. 

Tonight, though, the soft regularity of the chords felt anything but simplistic to Tyler. More than ever, the constant dull reverberation of the electric kit felt like a heartbeat, linking them together through an imaginary biological force. If someone asked, Tyler would swear up and down that anyone who just took the time to listen to the pulsing chant of Josh’s drums could understand the entirety of sound, and Ohio, and what it meant to breathe. 

The music tipped over into the vamp before the bridge, and Josh was nothing more than a blur past Tyler’s right shoulder as he jumped off the shallow lip of the stage. Tyler jolted into action, climbing onto Josh’s drum platform and taking his place at the full set, just as Josh was settling himself at the abbreviated kit that Mark and Michael had dragged onto the floor.The crowd - or what was left of it - had automatically gathered themselves in a semi-circle around Josh’s drums, with an air of both confusion and delight to have been brought in such sudden proximity to the action. 

Tyler let the crashing, cyclical rhythm of Josh’s bridge line wash over him, the register of the beat in his body hurtling him backwards in his mind, to that first day in the basement of the rental house, when the song had been conceived. The memory was as clear as day, how after the rap had ended, he couldn’t even keep himself off of Josh for another _second,_ as if the distance between them would have brought about the end of the universe. 

As he began to shout the final verse, Tyler had to keep a bubble of laughter from rising up in his chest; no one else in the entire universe, he realized, could ever go as hard on just a ride, snare, and kick as Josh was right now. But that’s why Josh was in twenty one pilots.

He let his voice grow louder on the last few lines of the rap, screwing up his face as he shouted about parting his heart, before they were finishing together with a final slam of their drumsticks on their respective kits. Josh tilted his head up to look at him, breathing hard, and this time, Tyler could keep himself away; this time, he knew he’d get Josh to himself later. 

As quickly as they had appeared before, Michael and Mark were re-emerging out of thin air, and along with Josh, pulling the drums backstage. 

“Okay,” said Tyler, grabbing the microphone and standing up from the drum set, limbs still tingling as he cast his eyes over the four or five interested people lingering at the front of the stage. “Okay. That was Anathema, and that amazingness at the end was the great Joshua William Dun.” 

He heard soft laughter from the row of audience members, and felt his mouth twitching up into a smile in spite of himself. 

“Josh is…” he began, veering into unscripted territory. “He helped me write that song, and I’m usually pretty bad at letting people help me. So that alone should tell you everything you need to know about him, I guess.” 

A warm, muscled arm snaked around Tyler’s back, making him jump at the contact. 

“Actually,” came Josh’s voice to his right, punctuated by heavy panting. “He’s totally just covering for the fact that I was a huge loser when we met, and I basically just stalked him around Columbus until he let me in the band - _ahh_ ” he broke off, giggling and stumbling to the side a little as Tyler gave him a gentle shove, ducking his red face sheepishly. 

In what he hoped was an inconspicuous movement, Tyler let his gaze flick to the girls from before, and and with a jolt, found their eyes full of the kind of understanding that Tyler and Josh couldn’t afford to let people have. Reality was closing in again, reminding him all at once that this _wasn’t allowed,_ that the boundaries they usually observed were not arbitrary. 

“Hey,” he heard Josh whisper, face blinking up at him, and Tyler realized that he’d been staring at a spot on the stage for a little too long to pass off as normal. “Okay?”

He nodded, trying to brush off any vestiges of his anxiety. Tyler knew that crowds could pick up on shifts in energy better than they often got credit for, and he was determined not to let them. He moved quickly, situating himself behind the piano, and found himself feeling suddenly grateful to be finishing with Car Radio. 

Sometimes, having sound to hide behind wasn’t a bad thing. 

 

\--------

 

At Michael’s insistence, they had set out for the next venue early the following evening, despite grumbled protests from the rest of the group. His rationale - with which none of them could really disagree - was that nighttime driving meant that they didn’t have to spend money on a hotel room, and any cost that they could save felt worth it right now.

They had quickly discovered, however, that the van’s combination of poor air conditioning and loud engine made the sleeping conditions non-ideal, even for Josh, who had been known to sleep through almost anything. Eventually, they had convinced Michael to pull into the back lot of a truck stop, so all of them could catch a few hours of shut-eye. 

Nevertheless, the momentum of the first show hadn’t quite settled down enough for sleep to be a possibility, let alone a priority. Josh was still giddy with nerves and exhilaration of the previous night’s performance, and even though it felt like every muscle in his body was screaming for sleep, his mind hadn’t quite caught up. But for now, at least, he was perfectly content to lean against the inner wall of the van, sock-feet tangled with Tyler’s, who was propped up against the back of the seats, equally sleepless, and deep into a game of fruit ninja. 

“I beat my record,” Tyler mouthed, without looking up from his phone, any sound that had issued from his lips being immediately carried away by the roar of the highway just a few meters off. The lights of the rest stop complex and the headlights in the distance cast a dull orange glow over half of Tyler’s face, while the other was blurred by shadow. 

“Yeah?” Josh mouthed back, and he nodded silently in response. 

The humidity of midwestern July had led Tyler to tug their shirts off before they had settled down, and despite having seen him shirtless a hundred times before, Josh found himself almost incapacitatingly entranced with the smooth skin of Tyler’s chest, the swells of his nipples, and the tiny, barely visible dusting of hair that led down from his navel, so fair and light that one wouldn’t know it was there unless they had touched the patch of skin themselves. Josh was so caught up in his consideration of Tyler’s torso, pondering how it could be so polarizingly soft and firm at the same time, that he didn’t notice Tyler’s eyes on him until his voice tore him from his reverie. 

“What are you doing?” Tyler asked, smiling tamely and raising an eyebrow.

Josh blinked, blushing, and instinctively reached a hand up to tug nervously at his hair. 

“Nothing.” 

He watched Tyler’s expression melt slowly away into soft fondness, and Josh was overcome by the desire to reach out and touch the skin that he’d been examining so closely. Tyler’s eyes, where they intersected with Josh’s, were so entirely soft and swarthy and _full_ of something, and before he could even put a conscious thought to the action, Josh found his body making its way over to Tyler’s of its own volition. He propped himself against the back side of the van’s bench seat, and leaned in, slowly bringing a hand up to cup Tyler’s face and inching himself forward until the tip of his nose met the side of Tyler’s cheek. 

Tyler let out a breathless laugh at that, which quickly turned into a hum as Josh pressed a chaste and innocuous kiss to the soft skin below his right ear. He felt a hand make its way onto his cheek, tilting his forehead up to press against Tyler’s, going cross-eyed in their attempts to stay locked in an an almost trepidatious gaze. He wasn’t sure who moved first - only that they were kissing now, mouths closed and lazy and tasting of the toothpaste they had all been sharing, because Josh was the only one who had remembered to pack any. 

It was both a blessing and a curse, the fact that he and Tyler couldn’t do much more than make out when all four of them were in the van. What had started as an awkward and often frustrating configuration had, by the second or third day of the tour, given Josh a newfound appreciation for Tyler’s mouth. Even under the strict regime of Mark’s self-proclaimed “No Shenanigans in the Vanigans” rule, the proximity to the others necessitated a comfortable sort of slowness; there was no room for the energy of _want,_ so everything in the backseat became quiet and careful and exploratory. Josh didn’t mind. It gave him the opportunity to find out which parts of Tyler’s face and neck and mouth could draw a hollow shiver from him, and which ones he had to avoid, or save for some night in the indeterminate future when they would have a bed at their disposal. 

Unfortunately, his boyfriend was just as skilled. Tyler’s mouth could, under the right circumstances - which was most of the time during the lazy heat of tour - make Josh forget to breathe, or think, or do anything other than close his eyes. Tyler’s mouth alone could make his muscles go slack and his chest grow tight, remembering the days before he was allowed to want it all over him. So when Tyler - masked by the noise of the highway, the sound of snoring, and the midnight dimness of Nowhere, Illinois - started trailing kisses below his neck, down his chest, and into territory that Josh had a strong feeling wouldn’t fall within the bounds of _no shenanigans_ \- he was powerless to resist. 

“Ty, holy -” he gasped, feeling the soft fabric of his t-shirt being pushed up as Tyler grazed his teeth along his hipbone. He suddenly became very aware of Michael’s snores, and Mark’s slow, ragged breathing, from their reclined positions on the front seats. 

Tyler made no response to his exclamation, but hummed languidly, pressing his forehead into Josh’s side and running fingers over his hips. 

“Shh,” he reminded Josh cheekily, breath rushing over the skin of his stomach. Josh tilted his head back, trying to keep his composure, but was brought back to earth by the feeling of his sweatpants slowly being inched down, kisses trailing in their wake. 

“This is a terrible idea,” Josh murmured, more to himself than anyone else, because it was. One wrong noise, and their friends were going to wake up and get an eye-full of a lot _more_ of Josh than he guessed they were bargaining for. He looked down to relate this potential disaster to Tyler, but was met with full lips and lidded eyes peeking up at him, the sight of which was enough to get him half-hard already. 

“Tyler,” he tried again, finding it harder to keep his voice level as his boyfriend began to mouth at his cock through his boxer-briefs. He threw his head back, letting it bounce softly against the back of the bench seat. “Oh my - _fuck,_ Ty, we can’t.” 

He watched Tyler pull himself marginally upward, folding his arms on Josh’s lower stomach, and thrusting out his bottom lip. “Please,” he whispered, hooking fingers into the waistband of Josh’s boxers. “I’ll be quiet.”

Josh stifled a groan, his dick throbbing painfully at the prospect of what Tyler was suggesting. A rational voice at the back of his head reminded him that this was _far_ too risky, and _not_ the type of habit they should be getting into, but it was silenced by the deafening roar of deliria that accompanied the idea of Tyler’s lips, Tyler’s _mouth_ , stretched around him… 

“ _Please,_ ” Tyler breathed again, whining hoarsely and pulling at the elastic waist of his underwear, and in a single moment of desperation, he felt the last of his resolve break.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said hoarsely, reason finally giving way to arousal. “Shh. Alright.” 

Tyler’s smirk somehow managed to be triumphant and bashful at the same time. He leaned back, stripping Josh’s boxers down in one fell swoop, and sending his head falling backwards again. Josh felt his dick bob up against his stomach, achingly hard and leaking, and it took everything in him not to reach down and stroke himself. It was a strange kind of exposure - in such close proximity not only to their friends, but to the entire empty parking lot - but before he could give it any more consideration, he felt hot breath on his hips, and temporarily forgot how to use his brain. 

“Josh,” he heard Tyler say, the highway swallowing his voice again, making it sound as if it were coming from another room. “Josh,” he repeated, “you - _shit,_ you look so good.” 

“I - _God_ ,” Josh choked, any other reply getting lost in his fog of arousal before it could reach his mouth. The sight of Tyler, glazed eyes trained on his cock, seemed to be the only thing his brain could register, save for the electricity running through every cell of his body. 

Josh squeezed his eyes shut, stifling a groan, and trying as hard as he could not to reach down and place Tyler’s hand on his cock himself. 

“Josh.”

“Shhh,” Josh said instinctively, looking over his shoulder for any signs of movement before turning back and cocking an eyebrow at Tyler. “What?”

Tyler looked up at him with a mix of exasperation and embarrassment. Even in the dark of the parking lot, Josh could see that his cheeks had grown a shade darker. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

“Oh.” Josh blinked, and then again, “Oh.” 

He watched Tyler start to chew on his lip, and wondered briefly whether it was possible to be so hard that you explode. 

“Just,” he began, taking all the energy that he wasn’t using to keep from palming himself and putting it towards trying to keep his voice level, and quiet. “Just like… do what feels natural, I guess. Just watch your teeth, and… uh… _God,_ Tyler,” he rasped, reaching forward to grasp desperately at the crook of his shoulder. “Just do _anything_.” 

With the hint of a self-satisfied smile, Tyler inched himself backwards again, flicking his eyes up quickly towards the front seats before crawling backwards to lie down between Josh’s legs. He watched as Tyler reached up to clutch at his sides, and then, eyes fluttering, lowered himself down to press a single, soft kiss to the underside of his dick, just below the head. It was so light, so electric, that it sent a shiver running through Josh’s entire body.

“ _God,_ ” was all he could manage. “Oh _God._ ” 

“ _Hnn,_ ” Tyler replied, lips vibrating against him. And then, before Josh could comprehend what was happening, he felt Tyler trace the tip of his tongue up his entire length, before teasing it around his slit. The gentleness of his mouth forced Josh into an internal dispute, half of him wanting to press kisses to Tyler’s eyelids and tell him how good he was, and half of him wanting to rut desperately up into his mouth. 

“Tyler,” he tried, looking down at him with pleading eyes as he sucked slowly on the tip of his dick. Fortunately, Tyler seemed to understand what he was asking for, tilting his head and engulfing as much of Josh as he could in the soft wetness of his mouth, and closing a warm fist around the rest. 

Josh’s hips twitched upward minutely at the feeling of Tyler starting to languidly bob his head. tightening his lips and dragging them up and down. He did everything in his power to keep from bucking up too hard; the tough persona that Tyler donned in public made it easy to forget how delicate he really was - how delicate Josh knew he was. And although Tyler would probably kill him for thinking he couldn’t handle something, Josh had to remind himself that Tyler had never done this before, and that it would be selfish to make it any harder on him than he needed to. 

But in truth, it was no real object of concern; Josh knew that there was no reality in which he would ever let himself be rough with this boy. He doubted very much whether his own arousal would ever outdo his burning need to protect Tyler at all costs, even in moments - such as this one - where he had Josh wrapped around his little finger, and his full red lips wrapped around Josh’s dick. 

It was different from any other head that Josh had ever gotten, and while objectively it probably wasn’t any better or any worse, Josh took a kind of overwhelming pleasure in the fact that something about it felt so incontrovertibly _Tyler_ ; something about the slow, deliberate action of his tongue, lingering just under the head, and the gentle movement of his thumb up and down the base of his shaft, sent shivers through Josh’s entire torso. The slow and purposeful movements of Tyler’s mouth as he dragged his lips again and again over his length seemed both methodical and self-indulgent, as if Tyler were doing it not just for Josh’s gratification, but for his own. That thought alone was almost enough to send Josh over the edge, and he had to reach forward suddenly to grasp at a tuft of Tyler’s hair, tugging him away from his cock. 

Tyler looked up at him with glistening lips and questioning eyes, and Josh had to catch his breath for a minute, before nodding once, and guiding his head back down. He watched Tyler flatten his tongue, licking generously up the length of his dick before engulfing him in damp velvet heat again, pushing his head down as far as it would go, and Josh felt a shock of something hot and alive run through his veins. 

He ground his hips down, hands grasping fitfully at nothing, when - as had become their custom - Tyler reached up to intertwine their fingers together, squeezing hard.

Josh squeezed back, clinging desperately to his sweaty fingers and choking on moans, until all at once, he was drowning in dark waves of pleasure, shuddering violently through a soft, silent orgasm into Tyler’s mouth. 

Not once did Tyler’s grip on his hand falter, nor did the pressure of his lips, as he closed his eyes and let Josh grow soft against his tongue. Finally, he pulled off, shifting so that he was hovering over Josh before scrunching up his nose slightly and swallowing hard.

“Okay,” Tyler whispered above him. “So. Turns out that that’s not the most amazing taste in the world.” 

Josh threw his head back in a quiet huff of laughter, reaching down to tuck his dick back inside his boxers, shivering again at the sensitivity. 

“Makes for easy clean-up, though,” he countered, and felt the mattress pad shift as Tyler flopped down next to him, grunting in acknowledgment. The van felt hotter than before, and more humid, and Josh thought that this was probably something close to what other people imagined when they daydreamed about summer, or youth, or about being in love.

Heaving himself over onto his shoulder, Josh curled a hand around Tyler’s back, holding him firmly, and propping himself up on his other arm. His lips, if possible, looked even fuller and redder than before. 

“Is it gross if I try to kiss you right now?” Tyler breathed, mouth just inches from Josh’s face. 

“Definitely,” he replied.

“Can I do it anyway?” 

Josh’s grin was drowsy, but steadfast. 

“Definitely.” 

 

\--------

 

Tyler woke up feeling suddenly and overwhelmingly suffocated by the stagnant air of the backseat, and deafened by the roar of the highway. Even Josh’s arm, still wound loosely around his shoulder, felt like a cage, and all he knew was the need to be _out._

Moving as little and as quietly as possible, Tyler extracted himself from Josh’s grasp, out of reach of the nightmare that he had just left behind. Somehow, in anticipation of morning, the van had lost about ten degrees of heat, and Tyler’s torso had broken out in goosebumps - though whether that was the temperature or the dream was anyone’s guess. He fumbled blindly along the side of the mattress, producing and tugging a hoodie before even bothering to check if it was his or Josh’s.

He didn’t even remember drifting off; judging by the darkness smothering the van windows, he couldn’t have slept for more than a couple hours, but that came as no surprise. With touring had come spare time, and with that had come the time and space to think - which, more often than not in Tyler’s experience - led to sleepless nights. This time, though it it had only been a few days, the tortuous pattern of his thoughts had led his mind to cycle back to one single, unbearable, dream, over and over again, whenever he closed his eyes. 

Tyler tugged his hands into the sleeves of the hoodie, crossing his arms and running his palms over his biceps again and again, trying to will away the goosebumps. He pressed his nose into the collar, and was overwhelmed by the scent that he associated purely and entirely with the crook of Josh’s neck. Not his hoodie, then - but that was more than okay. It wasn’t until he opened his mouth to breathe in more of the smell that Tyler realized he had only been taking short breaths through his nose since he’d woken up. 

More than once, he had tried to reason with himself in this situation, telling himself that he should _wake Josh up, wake Josh up…_ there was no universe in which Josh would be mad at Tyler for needing him, and more likely than not, he would find himself pulled by strong arms into the most comfortable place in the world. 

Still, the afterlife of the dream always won this debate. He couldn’t make himself interrupt Josh’s sleep to explain the nauseous terror that kept infiltrating his own. 

He felt his stomach lurch as he was tossed back into the dark landscape of his dream, brokenly remembering the hazy and fragmented scene as it always played out - a show, or right after one, and a mass of young people, swaying and leering at them as they stood, trapped, onstage. The exact words changed from dream to dream, but some remained the same, hurled at them like slow-motion bullets through the thick air of his subconscious: _fags… sinners… a drowsy and venomous chorus asking him, through slurred and distant dream-speech, what their hometown fans would think if they knew… what God would think… how they ever planned to get famous when their band was no more than a gay gimmick…_

Tonight, for the first time, there had been familiar faces among his tormentors. His grandparents, his old basketball friends, his sister, all leering at him from the front row of some dark and noxious crowd. And tonight - this, he realized, was probably what had been enough to startle him awake - the mob had parted to show Josh, somehow transplanted from his drum set and into the crowd, face stark and cold and white, while the others laughed around him. 

Somehow, the dream had made its intentions known to Tyler while he was still trapped inside it: this is what you’re doing, it had screamed without words. _Spreading sin and ruination, and dragging him along with you._

Another wave of nausea rolled over him, and he turned his head so that his cheek leaned against the cold glass of the window, white-knuckling his phone just to give himself something to hold onto. For a ridiculous moment, he considered calling Josh for comfort, and the idea made him huff humorlessly. Sure, Josh was right next to him, just a whispered name and a gentle shake of his shoulder away from providing comfort - but it wasn’t as simple as it used to be. There was no need to drag Josh into the disaster of his mind. 

He flicked his phone on anyway, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the glare. 3:00 exactly; only a few more hours before Michael’s alarm would go off and they would be heading the rest of the way to Fort Wayne, and then there would be sun, and conversation, and he would be distracted from the temptation of closing his eyes. 

Tyler felt the mattress shift slightly, and snapped his head up to see Josh peeking up at him in sleepy confusion, an arm thrown haphazardly over his face to shield him from the light of Tyler’s phone. 

“Whad’ryou doing, Ty?” Josh mumbled, blinking drowsily

“Nothing,” Tyler hummed quickly, hoping that Josh, in his half-wakeful state, would take his words at face value. “Can’t - uh. Not tired.” 

Josh scrubbed a hand over his eyes, but didn’t press him any further. After all, Tyler had been telling at least a partial truth; the lingering tension that the dream had worked into his muscles was more than enough to keep him alert. 

“Go to sleep, Jishwa,” he whispered into the chilly backseat air. He watched Josh blink a few more times, lips pouting absently before reaching out in the darkness and fumbling for Tyler’s hand. Josh rolled onto his back, and with their fingers still intertwined, drifted into sleep again with a long, soft sigh. 

Tyler inhaled a rugged, shivering breath that had nothing to do with the cold, and everything to do with the fact that Josh had just actually literally fallen asleep holding hands with him; a tiny, unconscious cooing sound passed Josh’s lips, and for no one, Tyler blushed. 

Sleep seemed far too distant to try to chase at this point, so Tyler maneuvered himself so that he was sitting directly behind Josh’s sleeping form, and - doing his best not to wake him - situated Josh’s head so that it rested in his lap. Josh scrunched up his face slightly as he was jostled, mumbling something soft and indiscernible about _Jishwa_ being a dumb nickname, and it was so fucking endearing that Tyler had to stifle a laugh, not to mention the impulse to drag him up by his shoulders and kiss him senseless. 

He realized that he was still gripping his phone and one hand, and for a nauseous moment, Tyler considered opening up twitter, and scrolling through the band tag, looking for… what, exactly? People calling them nasty names, or hurling the kind of accusations that his dreams were so intent on providing him, in slow, sickening motion every night? Reluctantly, he tossed his phone over the bench seat, resigned to the fact that he would undoubtedly be searching in vain, combing the internet for rumors that didn’t even exist, except within the twisted manifestations of his own paranoia. 

In the light of day, it was easy to convince himself that his anxiety was irrational; but here, in the small, dark, stifling hours of the morning, Tyler couldn’t keep from believing that anyone who saw them play could somehow _intuit_ that they were together. More and more, touring from city to city felt tantamount to spreading the seeds of their ruination. 

But, blessedly, Tyler could form no concept of reputation or damnation while Josh’s head was resting warm and heavy on his thighs. He knew all too well that his fear wouldn’t be all the way gone come morning; it would always be there, waiting to be rediscovered in the paralysis of nighttime. Even in love, it was there. Even pressed against Josh, it could never really be gone. 

He couldn’t will it away, any more than he could the nightmares. But he could stall them with open eyes, thwart them with consciousness; nobody dreamt when they blinked. 

And so, in the hot, dark confusion of the empty parking lot, Tyler stayed awake. 

 

\--------

 

Fort Wayne was off. 

Tyler didn’t really have any further adjectives to describe the shift in atmosphere that had overwhelmed him almost the moment they’d stepped into the venue that day. Everything was objectively normal, but all through lunch and then through sound check, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this show, or this city, was different from the other venues that he had played. Every time he’d considered expressing this to the crew or to Josh, though, he’d abandoned his efforts in frustration, realizing that his inability to articulate the problem would make it more trouble than it was worth. 

Even Josh’s nerves seemed worse than normal. The usual silence that tended to settle over their dressing room just before they went on felt particularly thick tonight, and rather than providing comfort, the similarity of this room to the one in Chicago only served to add to his lethargy. 

Josh, on the other hand, was starting to show all the signs that Tyler had come to associate with pre-show anxiety. Tyler’s fingers always went to his hair when he was nervous, but Josh, he had learned, tended to act like he had just discovered that he had hands, and was confused about what to do with them. This time, one hand was balled into a fist at his side, while the other pulled at a loose thread in his jeans, picking at it over and over until it began to unravel into a hole. 

This was the juncture where Tyler would usually start to distract him, talking about something completely unrelated to the show, or challenging him at some game, but he couldn’t seem to muster up the energy to do either. In a gesture of slow, lazy affection, Tyler shuffled closer to his boyfriend, picking up Josh’s left arm and winding it around his own shoulders. He leaned the rest of the way across the couch and into the side of Josh’s chest, reaching over to hold his right hand while the other was busy around his back. 

Although he’d originally moved closer for Josh’s sake, Tyler welcomed the warm serenity that washed through him as Josh tilted his head to the side, resting it on top of his own. He easily lost track of how long they stayed like that, saying nothing, and silently pretending that they were in Columbus. 

But then, without warning, the door to the dressing room was swinging open, and Tyler was instinctively leaping out of Josh’s arms and halfway across the room, feeling the blood drain out of his face as he went.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ was his first thought, which was immediately replaced by guilt when he caught sight of Josh’s startled and slightly saddened expression.

Mercifully, the sound guy who had opened the door had his head turned over his shoulder as he walked in, giving Tyler the split second he needed to compose himself. 

“One more song, and then you’re up, boys,” the guy said disinterestedly, tapping the door frame twice before turning back into the hallway, disappearing as quickly as he had arrived. Nevertheless, his presence lingered, settling thickly and unpleasantly over the dressing room.

“We need…” Tyler began, swallowing and staring at the door handle. “Josh. We need to be more careful.” 

He saw Josh stiffen out of the corner of his eye. 

“Tyler, that guy didn’t-” 

“Not just here,” Tyler interjected, voice soft and level. “Last time, too. We need to be conscious of how we… act, onstage.”

Josh made a soft, short noise in the back of his throat, and it was the closest thing to a scoff that Tyler had ever heard him make. 

“What,” Josh shot back, tone still subdued despite his retort. “You think that one of those ten people in Chicago are going to be calling up every venue in Columbus, telling them we’re...”

He trailed off, hunching his shoulders and pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. Tyler knew that Josh would never be able to bring himself to be confrontational, but he realized that this - hands in his pockets, and head tilted sharply down as he breathed in a long sigh - was probably the closest to aggressive that Josh would ever get. 

“Have you considered the fact that these people don’t actually know anything about you?” Josh said, voice hushed but growing strained. “That, like, maybe they aren’t seeing you as some weird effeminate jock, like you’re so afraid…” 

He dropped off, despite seeming to intuit that he was hitting hard and precisely on the exact nature of every incidental bout of self-conscious terror that Tyler had experienced over the last year. 

“Why can’t you just…” Josh sighed in frustration, but still not raising his voice, or his gaze. Tyler wished he would yell, or storm out - anything was better than this quiet distress. “Can’t you just believe that they care about the music?” he went on. “Half these people don’t even know us, they don’t care if you’re wearing skinny jeans, or acting like a freaking human, Tyler…” 

“It’s not that simple!” Tyler’ interrupted, voice falling somewhere between a plea and a snarl. _“Jesus Christ,_ Josh.” 

It took a few seconds of utter silence before Tyler’s brain caught up with his mouth. Josh just eyed him soberly, jaw clenched in an expression that looked almost uncannily similar to one that Tyler had seen Mrs. Dun wear on several occasions. 

“Since when do you swear like that?” he said quietly.

Tyler felt his heart drop into his stomach, pulsing unpleasantly and churning its contents into hot, white guilt. 

“I don’t,” he said quietly. “Sorry.” 

“Tyler -” 

“Sorry,” he repeated, vocal chords barely even producing sound anymore. 

Josh just nodded. 

“You’re tired,” he sighed softly. “It’s okay.” 

“I’m not tired,” Tyler lied through his teeth, unwilling to admit that in reality, he probably hadn’t felt this tired since he was seventeen. 

Josh just moved slowly forward, hesitating for a moment before reaching a hand around the back of Tyler’s shoulder blade, squeezing gently, and Tyler felt a measurable weight lifted off his chest at the mere contact. 

The hand on his shoulder was warm, but Josh's eyes looked like chilled glass. 

“It’s okay,” he said again, and Tyler didn’t protest, but didn’t believe him, either. 

 

\--------

 

Josh knew that the other guys were probably waiting for him to pack up and go, but he let himself take a few more minutes in the bathroom after the show than were strictly necessary, knowing it would be the last moments he had to himself before a night of feeling cramped to death in the van. 

He cupped his hand under the faucet, quickly splashing his face with water, and propping his hands up on the sink as he let the droplets run off his nose. 

The only way that he could really think to describe the show that night was _different from Chicago,_ in almost every way possible. What their performance had lacked in energy and confidence, it made up for in the raw, guttural emotion that had seemed to radiate from Tyler all night. Though in some ways it fell short in terms of the explosive vigor and animation that he had become accustomed to, he had found this Tyler - restrained, but vulnerable, cautious, and frigid, but wide wide open - almost painfully captivating to watch. 

It wasn’t until Trees that things had started to fall through the cracks. Their dual drumming went off easily as usual, sweaty backs pressed against each other as they beat out their finale. Josh knew, in retrospect, that it had probably just been a momentary lapse in judgment, or the impulsive result of exhaustion, but as soon as they had sent the final notes of their show reverberating into the room, Tyler had let his head loll back onto Josh’s shoulder, sandwiching their ears together. 

Usually, it would have been the most innocuous thing in the world, but in the wake of that afternoon, Josh found his heartbeat practically doubling with the awareness that the crowd’s eyes were on them, like this, pressed together. _It’s okay,_ he had to convince himself. They won’t think anything of it. We’re allowed to be close. We’re already back to back, sharing sweat and breaths and everything else. 

But as soon as they’d stood up, the spell had been broken. 

“That was probably stupid,” Tyler had sniffed, loud enough for only Josh to hear, his eyes dull and unsmiling as he walked offstage.

Josh had tried not to dwell, knowing that letting his thoughts linger on the show, or seeking some kind of insight into Tyler’s perspective, would only result in a great deal more paralyzing anxiety than he felt equipped to deal with in a van full of his friends. He had learned by now that it was far more difficult to attempt to see his point of view than it was to wait until Tyler was willing to open up. 

He sighed, straightening his elbows and meeting his own eyes in the bathroom mirror. The best he could hope for now was that the stress of this show would stay at this venue when they left. All they could do was go on to the next city, and keep playing their music. 

If someone else hadn’t come into the bathroom at that moment, Josh might have stayed there, staring at his reflection, until the others started to wonder where he was. The door creaked as it swung open, admitting someone who Josh recognized right away as the guy from the venue staff who had walked in on them in the dressing room earlier. He sniffed, shaking himself out of his exhausted fugue, in the hopes of avoiding any awkward interactions. 

“Hey, drummer dude!” he heard, and found himself suddenly under the scrutinizing gaze of the sound guy as he leaned against the adjacent sink. Not so lucky, then. 

Josh forced a smile. “Yeah man. Uh. Thanks for sticking around.” 

The guy nodded, a little too animatedly, and Josh felt an unpleasant feeling settle into his stomach. He was lingering a little too long for someone who just wanted to be friendly. 

“You kicked ass,” he went on. “You’re a hell of a drummer, seriously. How long have you been touring with this guy?” 

Josh felt himself bristle, any residual impulse to give this guy the benefit of the doubt leaving his body in a single instant. 

“Not long,” he forced out, voice curt and cautious. 

“That’s good.” 

_Why,_ Josh suddenly wondered, as he dug his nails into the palms of his hands, had it been so instinctive and easy to stand up to Tim when he so much as breathed Tyler’s name? Somehow, this felt a thousand layers deeper, and the shock of the situation was leaving Josh immobilized in his own body, his skin feeling ten times tighter than usual, as if his insides were being suffocated to death. 

“I know you guys think you’re being subtle,” the guy drawled, the corner of his mouth turning up in a churlish way that made Josh’s legs feel paralyzed. “But you aren’t. Come on, man, you don’t look like a dumb guy. I see a lot of bands come through here, and you’ve got some serious potential.” He reached out as if to grasp Josh’s shoulder, and Josh was startled a few steps backwards. 

_Don’t touch me_ , his brain screamed, but the words didn’t quite make it to his mouth. It felt like his heart was pulsing directly behind his eyes, and Josh had to fight through a blurry haze of confusion to even realize that the guy was still talking. 

“Nobody cares who you’re dicking on the side,” he was saying. “But don’t let the music get sucked into that girly bullshit.” 

“I - “ Josh stuttered, voice barely more than a whisper. “Fuck off.” 

He was just met with a loud laugh that almost could have sounded friendly, had it not been bookended by condescension. 

“Listen,” the guy went on. “I’ll be completely honest with you, because I respect you as a musician. People expect the whole emo thing and the whole gay thing to go together, so you’re basically setting yourself up for disappointment, man. You should get out of this gig while there’s still time.” 

Josh wasn’t sure when his breathing had turned into a manual exercise, but suddenly, he had to make a conscious effort to let air into his lungs. He knew he was supposed to fight back, and pieces of white-hot retorts were firing through his mind at a hundred miles an hour, but he was losing ground just as quickly, each thought farther out of reach than the last. Half of what the guy was saying wasn’t even reaching his ears anymore, and what he did register was only in fragments; I’m not judging, he heard, the sound fading in and out as it was filtered through Josh’s panic. _Just saying… no one likes… trying to look out for you…_

He tried to open his jaw, but it seemed to be clamped shut of its own accord, his stomach turning over and over, as a hot, quiet nausea overtook his whole body. He didn’t move. 

“Dude, c’mon,” he heard the guy say, the sound reverberating almost painfully against the cold metal of the stalls. “Don’t just stand there like you can’t hear me! I want to know if you actually think that anyone is going to take your band seriously when the frontman is fu -”

And then, all of a sudden, the guy wasn’t there anymore. 

One minute he had been leering in front of Josh’s face, and the next, halfway through a sentence, he wasn’t. Josh fought through the haze of his confusion until his eyes registered the guy on the ground, bleeding freely from his nose, and the presence of Tyler next to him, teetering on the balls of his feet and wincing as he nursed a fist full of bruised knuckles. 

There was a split second of taut and bloody silence before Tyler was shouting at the top of his lungs. 

“Get the hell out of here, man!” he spat, and despite its volume, his voice sounded distant to Josh. “Go!”

When he glanced up again, it was to find Tyler watching the guy leave, with eyes that looked like they could sour milk. 

Suddenly finding that his legs didn’t work anymore, Josh let himself slide down the wall of the bathroom, his shirt riding up with him as he went. Tyler was following immediately in his wake, dropping into a squat with his legs between Josh’s, and reaching around to twist fistfuls of his shirt in his hands where they were braced against his back. 

“It wasn't in my head,” he kept saying, over and over. “Fuck… _Fuck,_ I knew it wasn't in my head.” 

Josh thought he might suddenly have understood why Tyler hadn’t been sleeping. 

The pounding in his head had dulled to a quiet, cottony emptiness, his panic washing away into a haze of nausea and sweat and exhaustion as he let himself be held. It wasn’t like the movies, when the hero swoops in to defend your honor, and then carries you off into the sunset as the credits roll. It was stupid, and scary, and Josh could still feel his pulse in his mouth, and Tyler’s pulse against his chest, and bile in the back of his throat

After what was probably only minutes, the door of the bathroom swung suddenly open, wrestling Josh and Tyler from the hazy timelessness that had seemed to wash over the room. Tyler uncurled himself from his frame far enough that Josh was able to glimpse Mark’s approaching figure, his face possibly more serious than Josh had ever seen it. 

“Please tell me,” Mark began, looking from Josh’s hunched shoulders to Tyler’s battered hand, “that you guys don’t have something to do with the guy who just came barging out of here, looking like he’d walked headfirst into a wall.” 

Josh could tell by the way his face fell that Mark knew the answer before he even finished his sentence. 

“What the _fuck,”_ Mark breathed, looking back and forth between the two of them, before settling his gaze on Tyler. “What the fuck, man. We’re two shows into this tour and you’re already trying to get us sent the fuck back to Columbus -” 

“Mark,” Josh warned quietly. 

“This isn’t seventh-grade recess, guys,” he interjected hotly. “You can’t - God, I love you guys, but you can’t just go around _punching people_ to get your energy out -” 

“ _Mark,_ ” Josh said again, gripping his arms tighter to his chest, and looking at a spot on the floor somewhere left of Tyler’s feet. 

Mark paused, looking at him expectantly. 

“It wasn’t…” he mumbled softly, not meeting either of their gazes. “He did it because… the guy, he…” Josh swallowed. “He was being a dick to me, and I sort of froze up. Tyler came at the wrong time, or - or, the right time, and… and, yeah.” 

He blinked, and for a moment, Mark did the same. 

“Okay,” he said, exhaling forcefully. “Okay, yeah. Alright. Let me go talk to the owner, then. God knows that asshole won’t be giving them the full story”

“Yeah,” Josh tried to say, but his voice cracked, and it came out as a whisper. Tyler still hadn’t moved from the wall. 

Mark reached out a hand towards Tyler’s shoulder and hovering over a tiny streak of blood that had made its way onto the fabric of his t-shirt, before appearing to think better of it, and moving away. 

“Ahh,” Mark said nondescriptly, shaking his head and turning back towards the door. “Just - meet me at the van.” 

Mark’s sudden absence made the room feel even quieter than before, and for the first time, Josh became attuned to the electrical humming of the ceiling lights. 

He took a few steps forward, wrapping hands around both of Tyler’s wrists and looking dumbly downward at the split skin of his knuckles. He wondered, fleetingly and despondently whether their shows would ever stop finding them in dingy rooms or leaning against brick alleyways, with blood on Tyler’s fingers. 

_You didn’t have to,_ he wanted to say, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He knew that it hadn’t just been for him.

“I know,” Tyler said simply, blank and glassy eyes meeting his. 

Josh nodded. Everything about the last two days was quickly starting to make a little bit more sense, and there was nothing to say. 

“Let’s get to the van.” 

 

\--------

 

The bar’s tiny parking lot was mostly empty by now, save for the looming white form of their trailer. 

“Thanks for the help, boys,” boomed a joking voice as they approached, and Josh jumped as he felt a hand clap down almost painfully on his shoulder. 

He turned, catching his breath and righting himself, just in time to see Michael retract his hand quickly, raising an eyebrow. 

“Dude,” he murmured, expression softening. “Did something happen?” 

Josh just shook his head quietly. He wasn’t sure he had the energy for another round of explanations. 

“Josh?” Michael tried again, flicking his eyes to Tyler and then back to him. “Is -” 

“We need to wait for Mark,” Josh said quietly. “And then we can go.” 

Tyler still hadn't said a single word by the time Mark got back to the van, sauntering up with his backpack over his shoulder, and turning to addressing all three of them at once. 

“It was the club promoter’s roommate,” Mark said, face expressionless. “The guy Tyler hit. It was the promoter’s roommate.” 

Michael’s eyes widened, turning his head to goggle starkly at Josh. 

“Wh - _Tyler_ hit someone?” 

“So,” Mark continued, ignoring Michael’s question in favor of looking pointedly at Tyler, “we have been politely asked never to play at this venue again.” 

Josh’s stomach turned over. He followed Mark’s gaze, hazarding a glance at Tyler, who was looking at the ground, face a mixture of anger, shame, and residual triumph. 

Mark moved towards him, gingerly picking up his right hand. 

“Flex,” he commanded quietly, and Tyler obeyed, wincing slightly as his fingers splayed out, and then balling them back into a fist. 

Mark sniffed, and Josh thought he might have seen the tiniest of smiles playing at his lips. 

“It's not sprained or anything,” he concluded. “You'll be fine. You're a goddamn idiot, but you'll be fine.” 

Tyler just nodded. 

Michael sighed, eyebrows finally resuming their normal altitude as he turned on his heel. “Let’s get going.” 

Josh watched him make a beeline for the driver’s seat, Mark quick on his heels, pulling open the door to the backseat. Both of them seemed eager to put as much space between themselves and Fort Wayne as possible, and quickly. 

Tyler, however, lingered.

Head bowed and shoulders tense, he rubbed a gentle thumb over the knuckles of his right hand again and again, before bringing his gaze up to meet Josh’s. 

“I’m -” Tyler began, mouth quavering in his struggle to remain composed. He bit his lip, hard, and looked to Josh again, voice high, quiet and strained. “I’m so tired.” 

In a single rugged exhale, anxiety seemed to leave Josh’s body, all at once replaced with a fierce, protective, exhaustion. Moving slowly, he took several steps forward, reaching up to take Tyler’s head delicately in both of his hands, as if he were afraid that it would break at any second. Josh guided his forehead down to rest against his shoulder, and felt Tyler deflate like a balloon in his arms, his warm, wet lips sticking to Josh’s collarbone. 

For a moment, Josh couldn’t believe that this subdued, silent boy was the same person who, twenty minutes ago, had been breaking someone’s nose. 

“You want shotgun?” Josh asked quietly into Tyler’s ear. 

“No,” he said, turning his head to rest on Josh’s shoulder, and speaking into the crook of his neck. “Mattress, I think. I’m…” he paused, letting out a long breath, and clutching tightly at Josh’s bicep. “I can sleep now, I think.” 

Tyler let himself lean into Josh for a few moments longer, before bringing both hands back to curl into his hair, eyes sad and exhausted, and Josh knew better than to attribute any of what had happened to recklessness. 

“Kiss me?” Josh exhaled, and Tyler did, closing in and pressing their lips together, mouth slack and still but hands firm where they clung in Josh’s hair, and for a moment, Josh forgot that he was anyone other than a boy being kissed by Tyler Joseph. 

Reluctantly, and only when Tyler was beginning to grow limp and heavy in his arms, Josh pulled away. 

“C’mon,” Josh offered, sliding the back of the van open and ushering the other boy inside. “C’mon Tyler. Time to sleep.” By the time he had situated Tyler in the backseat - eyelids already beginning to droop as he gripped Josh’s shoulder to keep him upright - the show, and the fight in the bathroom, felt distant and vague in his memory, as if it had happened in another life. Anything and everything with Tyler would always be more, and above, and better than some nameless dick in a bar bathroom. 

He shut the door to the passenger seat without a single glance back at the venue. 

Even before the events of the evening - but much to their relief, now - Michael had agreed to let them stop at a motel somewhere on the way to the Lebanon venue. It felt almost soothing to Josh, to be heading back over state lines, into something that he could reasonably call home - although, he realized, this van, with these guys - with _Tyler_ \- was turning _home_ into a much more complicated entity than it had ever been. 

Michael cast a quick glance over at Josh’s sober expression, before swiveling to the left to check his blind spot. 

“We’ll just never be able to show our faces in Fort Wayne again,” he said, lips twitching upward as he passed a truck and slid back into the right lane. 

Josh gave him a look that fell somewhere between acidic and grieved. “That's really not even funny, man. This isn't funny.”

Michael’s eyes twinkled as he turned his head to Josh again. 

“C’mon, dude. It's a little funny.” 

Josh picked at his sleeve, and drew his legs up under him on the seat. 

“Dude, Josh,” Michael went on. “I've known Tyler my whole life. Do you know how many times he’s punched someone before tonight?” 

He didn't dignify the question with a response. 

“Exactly zero,” Michael continued, unprompted. “And then some guy fucking breathes on you and he goes all Fight Club on them? Maybe you can't see it because you're in the middle of it, or whatever, but there's some humor in that.” 

He shrugged. 

“It’s a little funny,” Michael repeated.

“It’s a little funny,” echoed a voice from the seat behind him, and Josh looked around to see Mark leaning back against the headrest with his arms folded and eyes closed, smiling slightly. 

Josh let out a huff of laughter that was three parts anxiety and only one part humor. Mark and Michael were good company and loyal friends, but there were some things that they couldn’t ever understand. Acting instinctively, Josh unbuckled himself, climbing awkwardly over the center console and stepping onto the bench where Mark was stretched out. He swayed slightly, trying to navigate the movements of the van, before clambering over the back seat and onto the mattress, laying himself down behind Tyler. He tried as hard as he could not to wake him as he curled his arm around his torso, pressing a hand up into the warmth between Tyler’s sweatshirt and the front of his t-shirt so that his fingers throbbed along with the rhythm of his heartbeat. 

“What are you doing?” came Mark’s strained voice, his head twisting halfway around to peer down at the pair. 

“Shhh,” Josh hushed. “Nothing.” _Holding him._

He pressed himself flush against Tyler’s back, doing his best to cradle him with his entire body. Tyler stirred and sniffed slightly, a tiny sound issuing from the back of his throat, but, finally, he didn’t wake. 

_I love you,_ Josh thought, pressing his lips into Tyler’s hair and willing the words to infiltrate his dreams; _I love you, I love you, I love you;_ and nothing in the world had ever felt more true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it through this, you deserve a medal. Thank you for sticking around~


	15. Something Soft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more full chapter and the epilogue to go… I’m going to miss this fic so much. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

Travel was good, but home was better. 

When Michael had originally suggested scheduling a Columbus show right in the middle of the Regional at Best tour, Josh had protested. It would be dumb, he’d insisted, to split the schedule up like that, instead of starting or ending with a hometown show. 

But he had quickly been outvoted. Somehow, Michael and Tyler had anticipated their urge to pass through Ohio after their first week of shows out of state.

“We’ll need it,” Tyler had said, as if that decided the matter - and Josh finally had to admit that he’d been right. 

They’d taken off right after their show on the outskirts of Cincinnati the previous evening, driving through the night, and arriving at the rental house at 4 a.m. They had barely gotten to go home - only a quick stop to caffeinate and do laundry at their respective apartments before arriving to set up at the club where they were playing that night. 

After a week of empty basements and virtual strangers, a room full of their longest and most dedicated fans had given Josh a burst of renewed energy. He had hit his drums harder than he had all tour, and it wasn’t even from nerves - just from the sheer thrill of hearing Tyler’s words shouted back at them from a sea of familiar faces. 

In fact, more of Josh’s friends and family had showed up to this gig than any other show he’d had with Tyler so far. Not only were Ashley and Jordan both there, but so were Colin Rigsby, his roommate Dustin, Dustin’s brother, and an eccentric boy named Jesse who Josh had come to know through his sister. They stood in a group near the middle of the crowd, singing along to the stuff they knew, and cheering louder than anyone else when Josh backflipped off of the piano. 

After the show, Colin had managed to convince the others to help break down, his rationale being that _the sooner their stuff was packed up, the sooner they could all get food._

Josh had pulled for their usual taco bell, knowing that it was probably what Tyler would want, but the others had murmured something about a new bar, and the next thing Josh knew, a whole group of them were walking down a side street in Short North, heading to some pub that Dustin knew about. 

It had been so long since he had gone out, or done anything except play shows or hang around with Tyler, that he’d forgotten what it was like to travel in a group, with no goal in mind except celebration, and potential drunkenness. He knew that this probably wasn’t Tyler’s idea of a great time, but he had come along without a fuss, insisting that he was hungry, and he’d rather stay with the others than eat cereal alone at home. 

“You should come over to ours after,” Colin said, hanging back to meet Josh’s pace as they made their way down the sidewalk. “Catch up, and stuff. Jesse’s already crashing there.” 

Tyler pursed his lips politely beside him. 

“No can do, buddy,” Michael interjected, answering Colin in Josh’s silence. “Gotta get these boys on the road. We’re playing in Kent tomorrow, so no time to spare.” 

He heard Tyler sniff, face lightening slightly, and Josh smiled, feeling a sudden wave of appreciation for his boyfriend’s sportsmanship when it came to his other friends. He silently vowed to show Tyler just how grateful he was as soon as he got the chance, even if it had to wait until the next hotel night. But with the way that the colored lights of shop windows kept casting faint glows of blue and green over Tyler’s face, Josh thought he might have a hard time waiting even an hour. 

“Hey,” he breathed, and Tyler smiled back softly. 

“Hey.” 

He reached out to take Tyler’s hand, desperate for some kind of contact, but the minute their fingers touched, Tyler bristled, snatching his hand away and casting his eyes wildly to the others around them.

It felt roughly like someone had punched Josh square in the chest. 

“You coming?” someone called, and Josh looked up to see Colin holding open the door while everyone filed in. 

“Give me one sec,” he murmured back, taking a few steps around the corner, and flicking his eyes up for Tyler to follow him. 

He leaned back, wordless, and Tyler immediately shrugged his shoulders in frustration. 

“Don’t - don’t look at me like that!” he protested, twisting a hand through his hair. “I thought we figured this out on Monday!” 

Josh laughed in disbelief. “By _figuring it out,_ do you mean the part where you punched a guy?” 

“No, I… just... ” Tyler stammered, looking like he had to physically struggle to speak. “Obviously, we saw the consequences of being affectionate in public.” 

“But…” Josh mused, face contorted. “It’s not like this is a bunch of strangers. _It’s my friends,_ Ty. They already know.” 

Tyler blinked. 

“They know?” 

“Yeah, of course they know,” he shot. “I mean, look - it’s _Colin and Jesse_ , do they seem like the type of people to be weird about this kind of stuff? And besides, all of your friends get to know…” 

“That’s because my friends are involved with the band!” Tyler retorted. “And… since when did you even start being so chummy with Colin? Last I knew, you didn’t want anything to do with the House of Heroes guys.” 

“It’s not… I mean…” Josh began, letting out a long breath. “Colin’s not like Tim, he’s really… he gets it, like, he gets this stuff. He’s a good guy.” 

Tyler shrugged, closing his eyes. “Okay, I… sorry. Yeah, okay. I can’t keep up with this stuff, like, who we’re supposed to be okay with, and who we’re supposed to be just bandmates in front of, or whatever…” 

Josh felt his jaw tense up. 

“I mean,” he began, voice strained. “We don’t have to do this, you know. We could just be bandmates.” 

He regretted saying it immediately. He hadn’t meant it, even a little bit; they had been more than bandmates before they even were bandmates.

Tyler’s voice was tiny. “Don’t be… an idiot.” 

Josh sniffed. 

“Okay,” he said blankly. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. I’m going to go find Colin.” 

 

\--------

 

The moment Josh stepped inside the bar, there were hands on each of his shoulders, steering him towards the counter. 

“Drummer of the hour!” Jesse shouted, clapping him on the back, and Josh chuckled self-consciously. He found a beer already waiting for him on the bar, which he sipped slowly, watching more and more people crowd around their cluster of stools. 

He couldn't see Tyler anywhere. 

A group of giggling college students who Josh recognized from the show earlier came to hover by the bar, casting looks in his direction every few minutes. One of them caught him looking back, which sent them into another fit of giggles, and then Dustin was very suddenly whispering in his ear.

“Dude,” he breathed, and Josh was overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol. “There are literally so many chicks here who would get with you. Do not miss this opportunity, my man.” 

Josh shrugged him off, rolling his eyes slightly, trying to decide if Dustin was just too drunk to remember the primary reason why Josh would not be “getting with” any girls, or if he was actually oblivious enough not to have realized that he was with Tyler. 

“I'm cool, thanks bro,” he deadpanned, and Dustin shrugged, hailing the bartender. 

Josh pretended to listen to some funny story Colin was telling about his toddler and his dog, but in reality, he was still casting his eyes around the barroom, looking for a familiar tuft of dark brown hair. 

And then, without warning, someone was grasping his arm and pulling him away from the bar. 

“Hey!” he spluttered, barely having time to set his drink back down before he was being pulled through the room, through a back hallway, and into something that appeared to be a broom cupboard. 

“What the hell, Tyler,” he hissed, fumbling along the wall for a lightswitch, and flicking it on, waiting for an explanation. 

Tyler seemed almost folded in on himself, as if he were trying to make himself take up as little space as possible. 

“I’m so stupid,” he heard Tyler whisper. “Fuck. I didn’t… fuck.” 

Josh’s chest deflated. He watched Tyler look up at him through watery eyes, and felt his own breath get lost somewhere in his throat. 

“Don’t shove me off,” he croaked, the words falling like tears from his mouth. 

“No,” Tyler agreed, and then he was pressed into Josh’s chest, both hands coming to clutch at his back. 

He leaned in, and Josh felt lips graze his jaw, brushing against his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” Tyler whispered, and then repeated it without words, trailing a long line of gentle kisses down his neck. 

Josh let the wall take his weight, tipping his head back to give Tyler access to the length of his chest, and letting him press feather-light apologies into his adam’s apple. His mouth was methodical, slowly covering the entire expanse of his neck and chest, and nipping gently at his sternum. 

He stayed low, tracing his fingertips over his pecs and sucking a soft hickey into the juncture where his shoulder met his collarbone. Each drag of his uneven teeth over his skin sent a jolt of electricity through Josh’s core, and he found himself wanting more, wishing Tyler would mark him up all over. 

“C’mon,” he urged, breathless, tilting his head back and stretching out his neck. “You can - c’mon.” 

He tried to guide Tyler’s head up, but felt him pull back. 

Tyler’s eyes were wide when he spoke; unaffected, and genuinely surprised. “No, I - no,” he murmured, frowning to himself. “They’ll - people will see that.” 

Josh felt his heart start to sink and unravel all over again. He nodded silently, pressing himself back against the wall of the closet and looking down at the spot between their shoes. 

Tyler’s soft hand found his elbow. 

“Josh…” he began, but Josh snapped his head up, cutting him off. 

“No, yeah, I… I know,” he said hurriedly, brushing it off with a small smile. “People will see.” 

Josh ran a hand wordlessly over Tyler’s shoulder blade, squeezing it gently. He drew in close, pressing a quiet and brief kiss to the side of Tyler’s mouth before pushing open the door and stepping into the hallway without a second glance. 

 

\--------

 

In the claustrophobic silence of the closet, Tyler held his breath. 

He watched Josh round the corner, feeling as if a sizeable chunk of his dignity had been ripped off and carried back into the bar along with him. The door swung shut, dampening the voices from the bar room, and leaving him alone. 

Wasn’t this better, though? Wouldn’t it be easier if they could keep to themselves? He’d always felt so sure that this should be something just for them, and that Mark and Michael knowing was just sort of a side-effect of their living arrangements. 

At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel terrible to the core about flinching at Josh’s touch. He was reminded, every time, of the way that Josh had jerked away from him in the parking lot of Guitar Center on that terrible night when Chris had revealed his best-kept secret. In that moment, it had felt like a slap to the face, like they would never be okay again. He couldn’t bear the idea that Josh might feel like that. 

A sliver of light fell over Tyler’s shoes, and he breathed out his resistance all at once. 

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, tears welling up behind his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last week. “Enough.” 

Tyler pushed open the door, brushing past a couple of employees, who gave him perplexed looks, which he ignored. He made his way back into the main room, and his eyes found Josh right away, leaning with his back against the bar, listening to Jesse and Colin relate some story that involved a lot of animated hand gestures and cheering. 

Josh flicked his eyes up briefly, holding Tyler’s gaze across the room for a few moments before turning pointedly back to the others. Tyler watched him tip his head back in laughter at something Colin had said, chewing on his lip and scrunching up his cheeks, before taking a sip of a drink that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. 

“Tyler?” 

He heard Mark’s quiet, inquisitive voice by his side, and felt a hand close around his arm, but he didn’t look away from the cluster at the bar. 

“Did you...” came Mark’s voice again. “Did you guys fight? _Hey!_ " he hissed, voice rising in volume as Tyler pulled out of his grasp and started heading deliberately towards Josh and his friends. “Hey, hey, what are you -” 

Mark’s voice trailed off as Tyler reached the group, pulling Josh’s attention from the other guys, and onto him. He frowned, looking as if he was going to say something, but Tyler reached him before he had the chance, grabbing his face in both hands and kissing him, hard, on the mouth. 

It only took Josh about half a second to recover from the shock, before he was relenting, arms coming up to clutch at Tyler’s shirt as their lips moved against each other. The conversation around them faltered, and Tyler could practically feel people’s eyes on them, but he kept going, bringing a hand around to the back of Josh’s head, almost making him stumble with the force of his embrace. 

It was burning, and consuming - and the urgency with which he kept pressing into Josh reminded Tyler suddenly and strongly of their very first kiss. This, in front of everyone, felt like a renewal of whatever that had set into motion; a demonstration of loyalty, a promise, and a fierce _I love you,_ without words. 

Josh started to move away, but Tyler pulled him back, and felt him melt into him all over again. He let his lips linger on Josh’s for a final few moments, before drawing away slowly, hand still in Josh’s hair. He sensed several sets of eyes on him at once, and blushed, looking down. 

No one spoke for a moment. 

“Well,” someone finally said, and Tyler looked up to see Jesse smiling delightedly. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but that was definitely the biggest plot twist of my day.” 

A general round of laughter circled the group, and the tension dissolved like vapor. 

Josh bit his lip, glancing up at Tyler with shy and fond bemusement. 

“I…” Tyler started, but was interrupted by a heavy hand on his shoulder, and the deep familiarity of Michael’s voice. 

“You guys disgust me,” he said affectionately, squaring himself between the two of them, and clapping a hand to Josh’s shoulder too. Mark appeared by his side, shaking his head and chuckling in agreement. 

“I was thinking,” Michael went on. “Soundcheck in Kent isn’t until four tomorrow. There’s no reason not to stay here another night. Have one last real shower, and all that.” He grinned, as if he were giving them an early Christmas present; and of course, it was all that and more. 

“Fuck,” Mark breathed, tilting his head back and letting his face fall into a grin. “ _Yes._ That is the best news I have heard in my entire life.” 

“Yeah, I’m...not exactly disappointed myself,” Josh agreed, looking at Tyler through thick lashes, and he had to duck his head to conceal another blush. 

Mark’s voice rang with laughter. “Yeah, alright,” he taunted, amused. “I’ll let you guys be. I’ve seen far too much tonight already.” And with that, he was absorbed back into the crowd. 

Tyler leaned back against the bar, pulling Josh’s head in towards his own, and whispering in his ear.

“So,” he breathed. “Still want to crash with Colin?” 

Josh’s arms found their way around his waist, tightening as he spoke. 

“Not even a little bit.”

Tyler grinned, tilting his head up to kiss Josh quickly. 

“Rental house?” he suggested quietly against Josh’s mouth. 

“Mm,” Josh replied, smiling into their kiss. “I like your thought process.” 

Their noses touched briefly, and Tyler laughed. 

_“Good.”_

 

\--------

 

Miraculously, the front door of the house was unlocked when they pulled up. On any other occasion, Tyler would have chastised his roommates for leaving it open, but given that his backpack - with his house keys inside it - was still with Michael in the van, he wasn’t complaining. 

It felt odd to be home after a week away, like the feeling Tyler used to get as a kid, after returning from a family vacation. Everything was just as he’d left it, but it felt slightly novel somehow, as if the space that the room occupied in his mind had shifted, even if the furniture hadn’t. 

Josh headed immediately for the second floor, and Tyler was relieved to follow him, already reveling in the prospect of seeing his own bed again - although sleep was the last thing on his mind. In any case, it had become Josh’s bed as much as it had his. 

“It’s freaking good to be back here, even if it’s just for a day,” Tyler hummed as Josh pushed open his bedroom door, kicking off his shoes as he went. 

Tyler followed suit, plodding across the room in sock feet. 

“And I know I messed up today, but -” he broke off, suddenly silenced by a thumb pressed against his lips, and swiveled to see Josh wearing a sober expression. 

“Shh,” he murmured. “Ty. No more apologizing today.” 

Josh removed his thumb, but Tyler kept his lips closed. 

“We’ve apologized too much,” he went on. “And now…” 

He lowered his mouth, brushing his lips along Tyler’s jaw so lightly that it tore a shiver through Tyler’s entire body. 

“Now...I want - ” he breathed. “I want to make you feel good. _I want you._ ” 

Tyler felt himself slacken by several degrees. It didn’t come off as threatening or domineering at all - it was Josh - but there was a warm, bright ache in his eyes, and Tyler knew he meant it. 

He took in a breath, letting it out on a sigh.. 

“You can have me,” he whispered, and Josh’s eyes smiled. 

Everything grew suddenly softer - timid, almost, despite the familiarity of the moment. Wordlessly, Josh reached up to pull his own shirt over his head, and Tyler’s hands were on him immediately, fingers brushing over his pecs, his ribs, the pliant skin of his hips. He felt warm fingers under his shirt, and realized that Josh was mirroring him, stroking tentatively and reverently over his stomach. 

His breath caught as Josh's fingers moved to the button of his jeans, fumbling to undo them. If there was any urgency behind Josh’s movements, it didn’t show; or, at the very least, it lingered, unseen, underneath the tenderness that infused every brush of his fingers, or his lips, treating Tyler as if he was… not fragile, exactly, but _sacred._

His zipper finally gave way, and Josh’s hands were quick to tug his jeans down, giving him only the briefest moment to untangle them from his feet before he was stepping forward and palming the front of Tyler’s boxers, which were growing tighter by the minute. The sudden attention to his hardening dick had him pitching into Josh’s shoulder, pressing his forehead to the side of Josh’s neck, and shivering at the closeness. 

Josh flattened his hand, stroking languidly at his clothed dick a few more times, and letting Tyler breathe shallowly and wetly against his skin. 

“Bed, I want...” Josh muttered under his breath, his speech low and disjointed, as if he were talking to himself. “I want… I’m going to be slow, with you. Let me…” 

Without warning, Josh bent his knees slightly, wrapping strong arms under each of his thighs, and hoisting him up. Tyler reciprocated with enthusiasm, wrapping his legs around Josh’s waist and letting himself be carried the rest of the way to the bed, and laid down, delicately as a child. 

No sooner had Josh situated him against the pillows than he was gripping the waistband of Tyler’s boxers, peeling them slowly down his legs. Tyler felt his cock spring free, bobbing in the air, but Josh ignored it for the moment, flicking his eye’s up to Tyler’s and coming to hover over his midriff. 

“I want…” Josh repeated, not bothering to finish his sentence, but pushing his hands up under Tyler’s shirt again, sliding them over his hips. Tyler couldn’t help but think amusedly to himself that that they were both half naked, but in the opposite direction; if you combined them, you’d have a fully dressed person. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what Josh was doing, but he let him nonetheless, sighing contentedly as he rucked Tyler’s shirt up farther, leaning into mouth languidly along the soft swell of his stomach. He’d always been a little self-conscious of the tiny layer of fat that lined his hips, that came and went with the seasons, and which was probably only noticeable because of his small, bony frame. But Josh was acting as if it were the greatest thing he’d ever seen, kissing and brushing his thumbs over the tan skin, making Tyler shudder and turn his head to moan quietly into his pillow. 

The haze of pleasure brought on by Josh’s mouth was so overwhelming that he barely registered the creak of the bed and the shifting of the mattress as Josh moved farther up his body. He looked down just in time to see him take one of his nipples into his mouth, flicking his hungry eyes up to meet Tyler's before nipping gently with his teeth. 

In a flurry of movement, Tyler pushed his torso off the bed, tugging his shirt over his head to give Josh better access, which he took greedily, diving back in to mouth at each of his nipples in turn. Tyler had never even considered that something as simple as this could bring him so much pleasure - but it seemed like almost anything Josh’s lips or hands did tonight could send him reeling, and this was no exception. 

Too soon, Josh’s mouth was gone, and he was trailing hot breath further and further down, leaving no inch of him untouched; uncared for. He let himself lie back, growing almost delirious with comfort, until with a jolt of pleasure and confusion, he felt... _oh._ Tyler was suddenly very glad that he'd had the foresight to shower at the venue.

Josh straightened up briefly, lips glistening, and hands still gripping the bottom of his thighs. 

“Is that okay?” he said, smiling faintly. 

Tyler’s face burned. “Y-yeah,” he mumbled. “Shit, yeah. It’s… okay.” 

“You sure?” Josh intoned, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, and Tyler could only nod furiously, desperate for the new sensation to continue.

Josh hummed in approval, resuming his place between his legs and dragging a flat, warm tongue over his entrance for a second time. Tyler thought he might never get used to this kind of thing - being touched in places that he’d never even thought about as pleasure points, being handled with so much care, and compassion… it still felt like more of a fantasy than anything else. 

Nevertheless, he found himself rocking back against Josh’s tongue as he ate him out, tipping his head back and whining almost imperceptibly. Josh kept a hand on the inside of his thigh the entire time, rubbing slowly up and down as he licked and sucked with quiet obscenity. 

When he felt the tip of Josh's tongue start to push into his hole, he clamped his calves so hard around Josh's shoulders that he was forced to pull back, rubbing gently up and down one of Tyler’s shaking legs. 

"Good?" Josh murmured, smiling triumphantly, and he groaned in response, language and rational thought leaving him entirely after the soft onslaught of Josh’s mouth. 

Josh’s tongue poked through his teeth. “Good.” 

He hoisted himself to a kneeling position between Tyler’s legs, running a hand down his thigh once again. 

“Do you…” Josh went on, voice subdued all of a sudden. “You… uh. Lube? Only if you want,” he supplied hastily, drawing his lip between his teeth again. “Obviously.” 

Tyler squirmed beneath him, tightening his calves to bring their crotches closer together. 

“Josh,” he hummed. “You think after that, I don’t _want..._?” 

Josh shrugged, in a mildly self-satisfied way, and Tyler realized with a jolt that his lube and condoms were still in his backpack, in the van. 

“Frick,” he mumbled, head falling back on the pillow. “Um. Bathroom, probably? For condoms and stuff? Chris definitely had a supply under the sink last time I was cleaning.” 

Josh huffed in laughter, and pecked Tyler’s lips. “Be right back.” 

Tyler closed his eyes, sighing as Josh’s weight shifted off of him. His body was still thrumming and tingling with the sensation of Josh’s tongue on him, and his dick was almost painfully hard, standing straight against his stomach. His mind trailed vaguely back to another time - another _lifetime_ \- when he’d lain in a bed in this house, touching himself guiltily to something that he’d tried so very hard to convince himself had nothing to do with his best friend. 

Absently, eyelids fluttering with his arousal, Tyler let a hand trail down to tug at his dick, pumping it languidly, once, twice… he didn’t mean to start jacking himself, exactly, but the friction felt so electric that he couldn’t help but continue. He barely even registered the little whimpering noises that had started to issue from his throat, entirely lost in the sensation of his hand around himself, until a shuffling sound from the hall made his eyes fly open. 

“I found...” Josh said, voice trailing off immediately into a sigh as his eyes fell on Tyler’s body, and then trailed down to his hand. “ _Fuck._ ” 

The last word was practically a growl. Josh was on the bed in record time, practically pouncing on Tyler, agile and desperate, before kissing him senseless. Tyler was pressed immediately into the pillow, surrendering himself to Josh’s mouth, which made its way along his jaw, under his ear, and downward...

Slowly, laboriously, Josh began to suck at the skin of his neck, leaving mark after mark, and drawing tortured groans from Tyler’s lips. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t catch his breath, but it didn’t matter - he didn’t want to. If Josh wanted to leave love bites all over him, in the private of their own bedroom, he wasn’t going to stop him. 

And, besides, every sharp graze of Josh’s incisors over his neck was going straight to Tyler’s cock, making it leak pre-come and twitch frustratedly against his stomach. He was about to open his mouth, and - assuming he could fight through his arousal and figure out how to use the English language again - tell Josh to _hurry up already,_ or he was going to _die,_ when the sound of the front door opening and closing, coupled with the voices of their friends, snapped both of them out of their reverie. 

“Frick,” Tyler whispered, breath still coming in gasps. He reached up, pressing a hand over Josh’s mouth, and sitting up slightly. 

Chris’s voice traveled distantly through the floorboards, laughing along to something that someone - Mark? - had said. 

Tyler opened his mouth to express his alarm at the idea that their friends could come upstairs at any minute, but ended up squealing in surprise instead, feeling something wet against his palm. He drew his hand back, registering that Josh had licked it playfully where it had been pressed against his mouth. 

Josh’s eyes went wide, and Tyler realized with a jolt that the noise he had made had definitely been loud enough to carry downstairs. They waited, frozen, for a few moments, before Tyler heard the TV turn on, and Mark murmur something about food. 

They both let out a huge sigh, Josh chuckling delightedly. 

“Jerk,” Tyler grumbled, leaning back on the pillows. 

“You’re the jerk,” Josh hummed, sinking his teeth gently into Tyler’s neck. 

“You better hope they didn’t - ah - hear that,” he grumbled, as Josh licked and sucked. 

“Says you, mister _blowjobs in the back of the van while Mark and Michael are six feet away._ ” 

Tyler huffed, and in one swift motion, flipped them over so that Josh was leaning on the headboard, with Tyler in his lap. Winding his arms around Josh’s neck, he leaned in, kissing him sweetly on the mouth. The kiss quickly grew heated, neither of them breaking their contact, in favor of breathing deeply and desperately through their noses. He felt Josh’s tongue lick into his mouth, and parted his lips eagerly, trading kiss after open-mouthed kiss with him, and grinding his hips down absent-mindedly. 

Josh shifted him upward slightly, wriggling to peel off his own pants and boxers, before letting Tyler sit back down, the smooth skin of their thighs pressed together now.

Every brush of Josh’s lips, every movement of his hands, felt like love made visible; his whole being was charged with so much tenderness and emotion that Tyler almost forgot about his erection, or about any of the rest of it - that is, until, with a jerk of surprise, he felt a slick finger reaching around and teasing at his entrance. He’d been so wrapped up kissing Josh that he’d missed him uncapping the lube entirely. Tyler opened his mouth against his jaw, letting out a long, low moan as the pad of his finger pressed tentatively inside. 

“That okay?” Josh murmured into his ear. “You ready?” 

He didn’t respond, but tightened his arms around Josh’s neck, squeezing his eyes shut and sinking down, until Josh’s finger was buried up to the knuckle. He gasped in a breath at the feeling - still somewhat foreign to him - and Josh ran a soothing hand through his hair, cooing softly. He melted forward against Josh’s torso, slackly bracing himself against his body as Josh began to move his finger languidly inside him. It felt far less like preparation than it did like an entire event of its own; even just one finger had him shivering in Josh’s arms, muscles fluttering gently around his hand. 

“Two?” Josh breathed, and Tyler nodded into his shoulder, whining in pleasure as a second finger joined the first. The stretch was painful, but welcome, and he let himself get lost in the feeling of Josh’s careful ministrations. 

“Another,” he gasped into Josh’s ear, sighing languidly as two fingers became three, and then four. “Josh,” was all he could croak, as he rocked back onto his hand. “ _God,_ Josh.” 

The fingers withdrew slowly, and he felt a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly as Josh peered at him, breathing hard. 

“I forgot to say,” he said, words fast and heavy; “I - I couldn't find condoms, but I…” 

“I don't care,” Tyler said immediately, surprising himself. 

He closed his eyes, backtracking, fighting to latch on to _something_ of the rationality that had fled his brain the moment Josh’s hands were on him. 

“I'm… I mean,” he started, suddenly bashful. “I'm obviously… I mean, I'm not -” 

“Same,” Josh said hurriedly. Tyler blinked once, letting out a short breath, and then falling forward in his lap, nodding against his forehead. 

He felt Josh grasping his hips and lifting them up, and Tyler squirmed suddenly, pulling away. Even though he knew he’d probably be seeing stars in five minutes no matter what position they were in, a desperate and instinctive part of him wanted it like last time, _needed_ to feel smothered and consumed and _enveloped_ by Josh again. He ached for the kind of intimacy that only came from Josh pressing him hard and slow into the mattress, making them buck and roll together towards their highs. 

Rolling off Josh’s legs, Tyler repositioned himself so that he was lying on his back, staring up wordlessly at Josh with his legs bent and his front bared. Josh seemed to get the message, not even missing a beat as he lunged down, bracing a hand on either side of his head. He nipped the skin under Tyler’s ear once, before whispering into it. 

“You want it like this?” he hummed, with the kind of reverent innocence that Tyler thought could probably only ever come from him. Josh didn't wait for an answer. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Me too.” 

He nudged his nose affectionately against Tyler’s temple, and Tyler whimpered involuntarily. Josh so rarely spoke when they were together like this, other than to ask if Tyler was okay, so the brush of his breath against Tyler’s ear was both welcomed and indulgent. 

“Wanted to see… _ah, you,_ wanted to see you,” Tyler said, stumbling over his words as Josh hooked an arm under each of his knees, drawing them up and out. It was only half of the truth; the other half was swiftly being made manifest as Josh came to hover over him, enveloping his whole body in warmth and pressing their foreheads together as he pushed just the tip of his dick inside. 

Even with the slight pain of the stretch, and the instinctive clench of his muscles, Tyler had never felt more taken care of in his life than he did right now. Not as a child, not on a stage, or in a church, or anywhere. Josh was holding him, and it went far beyond just the strength of his arms around Tyler’s thighs. 

Tyler reached up a hand to grip at his bicep as slowly, carefully, Josh bottomed out with a grunt. 

“You alright?” Josh panted, and Tyler nodded quickly, grinding his hips down once to prove it. He’d never been more okay in his life. 

Josh was starting to rock into him now, and Tyler found himself at a loss with his hands, desperately wanting to wrap his arms around Josh’s torso, which - as it pitched back and forth in time with his thrusts - kept moving just slightly out of reach. He settled for propping his elbows on Josh’s shoulders, and reaching up to tangle both of his hands into his hair, gripping gently. 

“You can do that…” Josh breathed, panting slightly with the restrained effort of his movements, “ _ah_ … harder, if you want to.” 

His eyelids fluttered slightly shut, cheeks dusting pink as he spoke. Tyler felt his heart flip over in his chest, reveling in the quiet trust of their intimate give-and-take. He twisted his fingers in Josh’s hair, tugging slightly, and Josh’s thrusts faltered for a moment as he responded to his fingers with a high, quiet groan. The noise was timid, and accompanied by another faint blush - although whether that was from exertion or bashfulness was anyone’s guess at this point. Tyler hoped that it was both; watching Josh fall apart only served to undo him even further. 

He couldn’t help but think that he should have felt vulnerable and powerless, folded up like this, knees to his chest as Josh fucked into him lovingly. His pride should have been damaged, and it _would_ have been, had he gotten himself into this position with someone he trusted even a shred less; but Josh had his heart, had _all_ of him now, and Tyler _still_ wanted to give him more. 

In a moment of desperation, he wrapped his legs tightly around Josh’s back, rutting his hips up and angling them so that Josh’s next thrust caused the head of his dick to drag over Tyler’s prostate. The feeling ripped a shiver through his whole body, and he immediately arched his torso off the sheets, searching for more. 

“Wait - shit, c’mere,” Josh murmured suddenly, and Tyler let his legs fall slack against the mattress as Josh readjusted his grip. Moving slowly, Josh drew his right leg up his body, hooking it over his shoulder, and bracing himself between Tyler’s thighs. Josh’s arm came up to cradle the back of his head, the other one planted by his side as he started grinding his hips forward again, huffing out air in short little gasps with every new thrust. 

Their faces were pressed even closer together now, and each choked sigh and voiceless whine that came from Josh’s lips fell directly onto Tyler’s own. He felt a slight pressure on the back of his head, and gave into Josh’s hand as it urged him upward into a messy kiss. The friction on his prostate was making it far too hard to focus on any kind of synchronized kissing, but fortunately, Josh seemed equally incapacitated, groaning and screwing up his face as he surged his body forward again, and again.

Their angle was bringing no relief to Tyler’s dick, which was lying hard and heavy against his thigh. He briefly considered reaching a hand down to stroke himself, just to find some kind of friction, but it didn’t seem worth sacrificing the smooth and sweaty feeling of Josh’s back under his palm; he settled instead for drawing his body up the best he could to meet each pump of Josh’s hips, allowing his own cock to be sandwiched between their torsos momentarily each time. It was torturous, and ecstatic, and _not enough._

Josh panted out a gentle curse, and Tyler caught it in his mouth, biting Josh’s lower lip briefly. 

“Fuck,” Josh repeated, his head falling to Tyler’s shoulder. “ _Fuck._ You’re doing so good. You’re so good.” 

Tyler let himself whine at that, not even trying to hold back anymore - if he ever had been. Josh always knew what to say, before Tyler knew he needed to hear it. Not for the first time that night, he marveled at the foreign absurdity of the idea that he would ever want to have sex with anyone else. 

But despite the jolt of warmth that came with Josh’s praise, Tyler found himself aching for more touch, more friction, more release. _I need,_ he tried to say, _please;_ but the words got caught in his throat. 

Instead, in a moment of sudden momentum, he swung himself upward, forcing Josh back on his knees. Tyler shifted so that he was perched in his lap, clinging tightly to the tops of his shoulders for balance as he lowered himself down, grinding on Josh's dick over and over, in slow, desperate circles. 

Josh’s eyes, still wide with surprise at being so suddenly and enthusiastically ridden, grew full and unfocused as Tyler reached a hand up to curl in his hair again, twisting tighter this time, almost enough to hurt. 

“Shit, _God,_ ” Josh swore, letting his head fall backwards, and then snapping it forward again to latch his teeth to the side of Tyler’s neck. 

With both his hands in Josh’s hair, Tyler still couldn’t manage to pump his dick the way he wanted to; but it didn’t matter - something was coming undone inside him, causing blood to rush away from his head, and heat to coil deep in his stomach. He unconsciously gripped Josh’s hair tighter, leaning back and rolling his hips in long, luxurious motions, as he plummeted towards his orgasm. 

“Tyler,” Josh pled, his voice turning into a drawn-out groan. “I can’t - I’m…” 

“C’mon,” Tyler urged, his voice much smaller and breathier than he’d intended, the word barely making it out of his throat. “Josh. C’mon.” 

Something about his voice seemed to tip Josh over the edge; he gave one final, choked sob of desperation before he was biting Tyler’s shoulder and coming inside him. 

Josh slowed his hips as he rode out his high, and Tyler almost growled at the loss of friction; but the sensation of warmth spreading out inside of him, coupled with the pulsing of Josh’s cock against his prostate, snapped something deep within Tyler, and before he knew it he was bucking involuntarily in Josh’s lap and coming all over himself. Every nerve in his body was on fire, washing him in fervent bliss without his dick ever being touched once. 

Tyler opened his eyes, training his blurry gaze on Josh’s flushed face as their panting and thrusting began to slow. Josh reached down to give Tyler’s dick a few tugs for good measure, pulling the last drops of come from him, and Tyler tucked his head into Josh’s neck, shivering softly. Despite already feeling oversensitive, and too full, he wished that they didn’t have to move - that he could stay here, arms clinging around Josh’s neck and thighs clamped around his hips, forever. 

“That - _God_ ,” Josh panted, curling an arm around Tyler’s back. 

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed, speaking thickly into Josh’s skin, and feeling wildly inarticulate. This was the kind of good that couldn’t be translated into language. 

He tried anyway. 

“You’re… so,” he mumbled. “So good, fuck. You’re good.” 

Josh chuckled, kissing his temple. No tears this time. Not that it would have mattered, but Tyler understood - with the novelty stripped away, this had become simple. It felt nothing more or less than exactly what they were always supposed to have been to each other; intimate, souls and bodies bared - together, in person and in spirit. 

He felt Josh shifting slightly underneath him, and Tyler leaned back, letting his bent legs fall to the sides as Josh pulled out slowly. 

“I’m gonna get a washcloth to clean up with, okay?” Josh was whispering, leaning in to brush his lips across Tyler’s cheekbone

Tyler let his eyes flutter shut. “Yeah,” he breathed, far too blissed out to form much more of a coherent sentence than that. He registered the bed creaking as Josh stood up, but he made no effort to move, letting himself sink further into the mattress instead. 

Once again, he couldn’t help but equate this feeling to the one he got onstage. While it was obviously wildly different - much more private, and exposed in an entirely different way - something about the exhilaration of letting his guard down, and putting his trust so wholeheartedly in someone else, brought a satisfaction that he would never get enough of. The emotional release of sex with Josh was almost better than the physical one; although he was grateful to realize that, with them at least, one didn’t really exist without the other. 

He heard light footsteps on the carpet, and looked up to see Josh making his way back into the room, only vaguely disappointed to see that he’d acquired and donned a pair of clean boxers along the way. He didn’t even hesitate for a moment when Josh spread his legs open again, the washcloth warm and wet on his skin, stinging only enough to remind him of what they’d just done. 

“Boxers?” Josh offered, moving towards his dresser, but Tyler just whined, shifting over to one side of the bed and pulling up the covers on the other. Josh let out another quiet laugh, and turned in his tracks, crawling underneath the bedspread and curling into his side. 

Tyler made a soft noise of contentment, before turning over, pulling one of Josh’s arms along with him so that he was spooning him from behind. He felt Josh readjust, pressing closer into him, and tucking his nose into the crook of Tyler’s neck. Both of them breathed out a long sigh at the same time, and the weight of the day seemed to lift all at once. 

But something lingered in Tyler’s mind, nagging, and making him restless, even now. And so, knowing that it would inevitably ruin the moment, but also knowing that he’d beat himself in the morning if he let himself fall asleep without putting some kinds of words to this thought, Tyler spoke softly. 

“It’s not all because of me,” he mumbled, half hoping that Josh wouldn’t hear him, or that he was asleep already. 

“Hm?” Josh murmured against his shoulder blade. 

Tyler bit his lip, before wriggling around in Josh’s grasp, turning so that they were face to face, noses just inches away from each other on the pillow. 

“The hiding thing. It’s… stupid, I know. It seems stupid on the outside, or whatever, and it… if it were just about my stupid feelings, it would be,” he fumbled, struggling to shape his thoughts into something Josh could follow. 

They were lying close enough that he had to flick his gaze back and forth in order to look in both of Josh’s eyes at once. 

Josh just blinked, brow furrowed, and Tyler took it as a sign to go on. 

“I feel… responsible,” he tried to explain. “For them. I’ve given people this music, and I can’t take it away.” 

Josh nodded slowly, eyes dark and full of questions, and Tyler knew that he was trying to make sense of his words. 

“Okay,” Tyler began, trying another angle. “Okay. Imagine like - you know how your mother was really strict about what music you listened to, but she was cool with like… with Relient K, right?” 

Josh raised an eyebrow at the abrupt change in subject, but he didn’t protest. 

“Okay,” Tyler repeated, willing Josh to follow his desperate attempt at an explanation. “Imagine that your mom - I mean, I know your mom is cool now... now that it’s _you_ and everything, but… imagine that one day, your mom found out that the guys in Relient K were gay. Or - Or… yeah. That they were together.” 

Josh opened his mouth, but Tyler took a sharp breath, speeding up before Josh could stop him. 

“And you’re - you’re fifteen, or whatever, and this band means the world to you. They’re all you have, and they changed… everything, or…” he broke off, trying to measure his words carefully. “And then your parents take it away. Like… your salvation, this thing you’re a part of, is just gone one day, because your parents don’t approve anymore. Because we’re… they’re… because…” 

He trailed off, biting his lip hard, and felt Josh’s hand tighten around his. 

“It’s a safety thing,” he finally breathed, voice shaky “It’s for their protection, so they can keep this music, and - and I won't pretend it isn’t also because of my own stupid fear, but there’s a _reason_ , there’s a _reason_ -” 

“Shh,” Josh silenced him, eyes wide and face twisted. “God. Tyler… I’m... I’ve been so fucking selfish today, I’m so…” 

“No, no,” Tyler countered immediately, leaning in to bump the side his nose affectionately against Josh’s. “No, you… I didn’t tell you any of that. You were right.” 

Josh seemed to relax a little at this, his features softening and falling slightly. 

“We can be private,” he whispered, pressing soft lips to Tyler’s cheek. “It’s not a big deal, I… get it.” 

Tyler nodded appreciatively, curling in even closer. 

“I can’t… believe,” Josh started, pausing to run his fingers over his lips, “that you’re just… such a good person. Like, I know I’m the nice one or whatever, but you’re just such a good person.

Tyler let out a huff of air at that, smiling more to himself than anyone else, because _Josh,_ perfect, kind, harmless Josh, was calling him good. 

“I mean it,” Josh mumbled, nudging his shoulder. “Our fans are lucky. I’m lucky,” he added as an apparent afterthought, leaning in and kissing into Tyler’s neck. 

Tyler let in a sharp breath of surprise at the feeling of his lips on one of the bruises he’d left, and Josh pulled back right away, frowning and running a finger over the mark. 

“Shit,” he swore, looking apologetically at Tyler. “I’ll be more careful, I swear. I won’t… yeah. I’m sorry.” 

Tyler just shrugged meekly, the corners of his mouth tugging up. 

“Liked it,” he mumbled, tucking his head down. “So. S’fine.” 

Josh flashed him another brilliant, squinting smile, before gently maneuvering them back into their spooning position, wrapping strong arms around him from behind. Soft rain had started to fall onto the skylight, refracting the glow of the streetlamps in watery orange patterns over the bed. They were at peace. 

“It’s good to be home,” Josh sighed sleepily, breath tickling the back of his neck. 

“Yeah,” Tyler hummed, forgetting Ohio, and thinking only of this room, this bed, this boy. “It really, really, is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s o f t b o y s


	16. Towards the Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *emerges from shadows and hands you the last full chapter*

It was funny to Josh, the way the final week of their little tour had managed both to go by in an instant, and to contain some kind of desperate and fleeting infinity at the same time. Blessedly, the last few shows had gone off without incident, and had taken them on a zig-zag above and around Ohio, depositing them finally onto the thick vessels of vast Pennsylvania highway. 

The morning of their final show had brought with it a degree of calm, coupled with an undeniable haze of exhaustion. And yet, despite their fatigue, Josh couldn’t help but sense that there existed among the four of them a certain unwillingness to leave this tour behind, this _first real album tour_ that had gone beyond the late-night bars and coffee shops of Columbus, and which had felt entirely too exhilarating to have actually been real. 

Mark and Tyler were taking the first sleeping shift as they made their way from one corner of the state to another, Death Cab streaming quietly through the speakers, and morning sun streaming onto the dashboard, where Josh’s feet were lazily propped. 

“This is a good one,” he heard Michael say, and he nodded sleepily in agreement without even making an effort to identify the song. 

It occurred to Josh that he was going to miss even this; the van was hot and cramped, but it was home. What had once seemed like a mere inconvenient necessity in order to play elsewhere had become part of the charm of touring, and seemed to hold in it a sense of something utterly youthful, something soft, and the kind of summer freedom that he suspected he might someday yearn to have again. 

As was his custom, Josh craned his neck to look in the rearview mirror, trying to catch a glimpse of Tyler’s sleeping form, but found his view obscured by the top of the bench seat. 

“Relax,” came Michael’s voice again, smirking at him. “He can probably last a few hours without sticking his tongue down your throat.” 

Josh might have bothered to retort, if the sun hadn’t felt so soporifically warm on his ankles, or the headrest so familiar. 

“Mm,” was his only reply. “Maybe.” 

It was true, of course; in fact, since their stop in Columbus, both he and Tyler had become more practised at the art of having to hold off the impulse for physical affection. Dressing rooms were for getting ready, and kissing, hand holding, had become the secret business of late nights. Josh liked it better this way. Onstage, as far as the audience knew, their chemistry was that of musicians, or even of best friends. But in the back of the van, or gas station bathrooms, or the grassy medians behind roadside motels, Tyler touched him wherever he asked. 

Nevertheless, the rough nights remained. It wouldn't be reality if they hadn't. Some nights, after a show, Tyler would roll himself up in blankets in the van or in a hotel, and Mark and Michael would conveniently go out for a drink while Josh held him tightly from behind. Sometimes, it was the other way around. 

Once, Josh had caught Tyler on his knees in the middle of the night, whispering something and leaning over the side of their shared motel bed. 

“Baby boy?” Josh had whispered, and Tyler's eyes had flown open, full of something gentle but avoidant. 

He had shrugged, and told Josh that he had to try to find a little bit of grace wherever he could these days.

Now, Josh turned his head sideways against the headrest, watching strips of white line pass below the window, and thinking of how calm Tyler’s eyes tended to become in moments when he was sure of his faith - when he was giggling with ruby, or leading Sunday school, or showing Josh a new song.

The highway gave way to the main thoroughfare of a small and sleepy town, and Josh’s eyes were suddenly dragged upward. 

“Stop!” He blurted, throwing a hand out to the side as Michael swore and hit the brakes. There was a muffled yelp from the backseat, presumably as one of their friends rolled into the other on the mattress. 

“What? What?” Michael demanded. 

“No, sorry, just…” Josh said hastily, pointing to a spot across the road. “Can we stop? Do we have time?” 

Michael squinted, training his gaze to follow Josh’s, and take in what he was asking. Josh watched him deflate slightly, heaving out a long sigh and letting his head thump against the headrest. 

“What the hell dude,” he complained. “You made it sound like I was about to hit a deer or something, not like you wanted me to pull over at some motherfucking church!” 

“What’s going on?” came Tyler’s disgruntled voice from the backseat. 

Josh swiveled to face Michael fully. “Can we just stop here for awhile? I think he... “ he glanced at Tyler’s red and exhausted face in the rearview mirror. “I think we all miss it.” 

Michael flicked his eyes up to the mirror as well, and then chuckled fondly in Josh’s direction. “Yeah dude,” he murmured, reaching to undo his buckle. “We can stop. It is Sunday after all.”

Mark and Tyler both rubbed their eyes as they got out of the car, Mark even stumbling a little as he made it to the sidewalk.

“Didn't we just stop for lunch?” he grumbled, squinting at Josh in the early afternoon sun. 

“Not lunch,” Josh murmured, extending an arm to point at the church across the street. “Sunday.” 

Mark raised an eyebrow in surprise, but made no further comment. Tyler, on the other hand, approached Josh, arms folded into his chest. 

“You made him - you wanted to stop?” he said, dropping one of his arms. 

“Yeah,” Josh said, shrugging, and resisting the urge to take his hand. “We’re probably way too late for the service, but it might be nice to go in for awhile…? If you want…?” 

Tyler stared at him for a long moment, as if contemplating something, before a soft expression washed over his face, and he leaned into his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing his forehead briefly and affectionately to Josh’s cheek. “Let’s go.”

 

\--------

 

The church was quiet when they entered, in a way that felt a lot like home. Rows of pews stood like silent soldiers, and dust particles floated in the sunbeams that streamed through high, arched windows on either side of the aisles. 

“Do you think they’ll mind that we’re in here?” Michael whispered, tone hushed for no particular reason. 

Mark shrugged, shaking his head. “Don’t see why they would. Door was unlocked.” 

Tyler was the first to move, silently making his way down the center aisle, and looking, Josh thought, like something decidedly celestial. He paused at the edge of a pew near the front, standing still and quiet in the middle of a sunbeam, and staring vaguely up at the altar. 

Hesitantly, Josh turned with an entreating look to Mark, who huffed an exasperated breath out of his nose. 

“C’mon, Michael,” he droned. “Let’s see if there’s a garden or something. Bit stuffy in here.” 

Josh silently thanked his friend for understanding, and not for the first time, appreciated Mark’s uncanny ability to sense out any situation. 

Treading carefully, he followed Tyler’s footsteps down the soft, worn pine of the church floor. Tyler’s absent gaze didn’t falter, and he seemed not to realize that he had followed him, even jumping slightly when Josh wrapped strong arms around his middle from behind. He sniffed, tipping his head back lazily, and Josh seized the opportunity to press chaste and soft lips into the crook of his neck, fluttering his eyes closed and breathing slowly. 

If anything was holy, it was this. 

“Hey,” Josh spoke quietly, and Tyler righted himself in his grasp. 

“Hey.” 

Josh ran a hand up and down Tyler’s arm. 

“You wanna sit?” he offered, moving into the pew, and Tyler nodded, following, and sitting with his feet propped up on the kneeler. 

Somehow, despite having never _been to church_ with Tyler in his life, something about this configuration felt familiar to Josh. Perhaps, he thought, it was just the comfortable feeling of being in touch with something bigger, which he’d shared with Tyler a hundred times on stage. This was just a different God. 

The silence, too, was new. Faith onstage came in the form of Tyler’s tortured and delicate lyrics, and in Josh’s mechanical heartbeat, thrumming through the kick drum and through their bodies. But Josh found himself appreciating the quiet, and the faint sound of cars on the road outside, passing by the church without knowing, without ever knowing, that the brightest and most important boy in the world was sitting next to him inside. 

Tyler shifted, leaning his head in both of his hands, and Josh wondered what he was thinking. 

He was about to open his mouth to ask him, but Tyler beat him to it. 

“Did you ever wonder about God?” he murmured, pressing his jaw closed with his hands even as his lips moved.

“Hmm?” Josh hummed, shifting closer. 

“Did you wonder, like…” Tyler went on. “When you started realizing… stuff? When you figured out you liked guys? Did you ever wonder if you were giving something else up in the process?” 

Out of context, it would have sounded insensitive, would have made Josh wince, and think of his father. But that wasn’t what this was. Josh knew that Tyler was saying exactly what he meant - that he was asking him a genuine question, to which he truly wanted an answer. 

“No,” he responded honestly, breathing out a long sigh. “I don’t know if it’s because she… suspected, or something, but my mom always made a big deal about promising me that God loved everyone, no matter who _they_ chose to love.” 

Tyler blinked, unmoving, chin like stone in his hands. Josh went on. 

“She told me - like I was really young, I didn’t even _know_ yet what she was even… like, what she was trying to tell me, I guess. But she would say over and over that as long as I kept loving Him, and living for Him, then I had nothing to worry about.” 

He paused, and Tyler folded his hands in his lap, frowning. 

“And then later, after,” he went on, catching his breath. “There were definitely times that I had trouble believing that. Not so much the part about love and grace and stuff, but the part about her - that she wouldn’t see me as less faithful, or whatever. But she proved herself, I guess. She’s still proving herself. And that promise it… stuck with me, I guess. Yeah.” 

He broke off, watching Tyler nod into his hand - or maybe he was just rocking back and forth. 

“Yeah,” Tyler echoed. 

“Yeah.” 

“My mom said stuff like that, but I didn’t believe her,” Tyler mumbled, all in one breath. 

Josh stilled himself, afraid that one wrong move might startle him back into silence. These fragile moments of disclosure were few and far between. 

“I don’t even know if she believed it herself. Either way, it took awhile for either of us to catch on, to… the whole thing.” 

He took in a deep breath through his nose, fiddling with his hands in a pillar of light, and Josh felt like he was watching a painting come to life. 

Tyler bit his lip, and looked at Josh for the first time since they had sat down. 

“Did you know,” he said slowly, “that once, I wrote a song about a boy?” 

Josh shook his head as Tyler nodded again. 

“I was 18. And at first… all the early attempts at writing stuff were about losing my faith. Back when I was just sort of screaming alone in the basement, you know. But then there was a guy, and I didn’t understand, and I wrote it - ‘Falling Too.’” 

He looked up, as if to plead with Josh, to make sure that he didn’t need to elaborate. 

He didn’t. Josh nodded, dazed, lyrics and piano rearranging themselves in his mind as Tyler spoke again. 

“But it didn’t really fix anything, or help or… it just… I felt guilty,” he murmured, punctuating the last word by digging his knuckles into his thigh. “And I wrote another song. To compensate. Lots of that early stuff happened like that… one song making up for the guilt of writing another. So I wrote ‘Save,’ and it worked, I guess, because I didn’t let myself think about another boy for years.” 

Josh fought back something tight and immense in his throat. 

“Until you,” Tyler added. 

Josh’s breath had gotten lost somewhere on the way to his lungs. He swallowed dumbly. 

Tyler looked at his shoes, face distorted, as if he had to force himself to speak. 

“It sort of feels like you’re being pulled down,” he began. “Love, I think. But you don’t know by what, and you’re looking for something to pull you back up, but you don’t know who, and…” he paused, the toe of his shoe grinding ineffectual circles into the wood floor. “And if you grab on too tightly to someone who offers their hand, you’re afraid that like… that you’ll-” 

“That you’ll drag them down with you?” Josh offered, quiet and solemn. 

Tyler seemed to be fighting to keep the corners of his mouth where they were. 

Josh wrapped careful fingers around his bare elbow, which was hard and sinewy from the exertion of clasping his hands. “Do you worry about dragging me down?” 

His arm jerked in Josh’s fingers with the sudden suggestion of a shrug, bottom lip escaping his teeth for the shortest moment before it was bitten back into silence. 

“Tyler,” Josh breathed, sliding his hand down to lace their fingers together, and finding that Tyler’s were shaking. He took a breath. “Ty.” 

“It hurts,” Tyler interrupted, turning towards him, face resolute and streaked with tear tracks. 

Josh blinked, squeezing his hand. “What does?” 

Tyler took in a shuddering breath, flicking his eyes up to the ceiling as his lips curled downward with the weight of crying, one hand coming up to clutch at the front of Josh’s shirt. 

“You,” he finally said, mouth contorting around the word as he cried silently. “I love you so much it hurts.” 

He said it, Josh thought, as if he were frustrated, or perplexed; as if he couldn’t quite understand why he hadn’t said it before. 

Josh found himself wondering the same thing, and marveled, for a moment - both at the boy next to him, with tears pooling in his eyes, telling him he loved him in the middle of a church somewhere in Pennsylvania; and at the ridiculousness of not having told him the same thing, every day, unconditionally, since they’d met. It struck him as one of those monumentally important events that would never escape his memory; nothing that came after, no highlight of his career or moment in his life could ever compare to this, here, the arched sanctuary windows casting light onto Tyler’s hand where it clutched his own for dear life. 

“I love you,” Tyler repeated, and Josh leaned forward without hesitation, pressing Tyler into the corner of the pew with the quiet force of a long and deliberate kiss. 

He pulled back, both hands firm on Tyler’s shoulders. 

“I love you too,” he managed. His nerves were on fire. 

Tyler breathed out a string of words, none of which Josh could hear. He shook his head in confusion.

“Again,” Tyler choked, still holding back tears. “Say it again, please, Josh.” 

“I love you,” Josh repeated immediately, and Tyler cried harder. “I love you too, Tyler, _I love you_ , I _love_ you,” he breathed, holding on his shoulders and repeating the words until he was crying too. 

It hurt. It was the entire world.

Tyler pressed his red nose into Josh’s neck, and something large and cosmic seemed to fall into place. Here they were. 

“If somebody walks in, they'll probably think someone’s died,” Josh said, and Tyler huffed a wet laugh into his skin between sobs. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Prolly.” 

Josh let his hand drift to the crown of Tyler’s head, brushing slackened fingers through his hair. 

“I love you,” he breathed into Tyler’s bangs, the first reminder of many, and Tyler hummed in response. 

“I know.”

 

\--------

 

Their final show had been a good one. The room had buzzed with the electricity of genuine fandom and dedication, and as Tyler had told the small crowd of teenagers before Trees, he had needed this one. 

The ride to the motel had been loud with laughter and exhaustion, and Tyler had let Josh rest his head in his lap, while he absentmindedly twirled his hair around his fingers, Josh's head bobbing up and down in the moments when someone would say something to make Tyler’s stomach shake with laughter.

When they finally did make it to their cheap and dimly lit room, Tyler only managed to get a few hours of sleep before someone was jostling him into consciousness. 

“Hey,” whispered Josh above him. “C’mon. Wakey wakey.” 

The room was still far too dark for it to be anywhere near morning, and Tyler had to blink through his sleepy eyes to even see Josh properly in the faint, neon blue light of the Motel 6 sign outside their window. 

“C’mon,” Josh repeated, before Tyler could speak. He was perched on the side of their pull-out bed, hovering over him, and there was a glint in his eye that Tyler had never seen there before - something innocently reckless, and full of quiet adrenaline. 

Tyler made a groaning noise and stretched out under the covers, screwing up his face and tugging begrudgingly on the fabric of Josh’s hoodie. 

“S’nighttime,” he mumbled, barely moving his lips. 

Something jingled above him, and he peaked through his sleep-heavy eyelids again. 

“No, it’s almost morning,” Josh smirked, waving the van’s keys in front of Tyler’s face. “And Michael doesn’t keep a very close watch on these, so we’re going on an adventure.” 

Tyler huffed in protest, but he couldn’t keep a small smile from finding its way onto his face. This soft, midnight excitement was enough unlike his boyfriend to make it endearing. He let himself be pulled up by a warm and calloused hand, treading lazily on the cheap carpet as he made his way towards his shoes. 

The air outside the motel was musky, warm, and wet, and to Tyler, it smelled distinctly like August. The mist of near-morning settled onto his skin like sweat, making Josh's lips stick to his neck where he kissed him, briefly, before climbing into the driver’s seat of the van. 

“Where are we going?” Tyler murmured, leaning back and letting himself stare unabashedly at Josh. He didn't really care about the answer. They were already alone.

“Shh,” Josh hushed him, tongue between his teeth as he backed the trailer onto the quiet, dark road. “Spoilers”

Tyler drew his feet up under him on the seat, falling into the rhythm of passing headlights, and Josh's careful driving. 

They'd be back in Ohio soon, and back to the reality of booking shows and garnering audiences and justifying their lifestyles to anyone who asked. But there was no defense waiting to be made on this back road, hundreds of miles from home. No one could catch them here.

 _No one could catch them here,_ he reminded himself, as Josh turned the van off the road and into a deep semi-circle of dirt, carved nearly into the side of the road where it crested over a hill. The van’s headlights briefly illuminated a sign with the words “scenic outlook” printed on it in black letters. 

“How did you know about this?” Tyler mused fondly, his brain still catching up with the revelation of Josh-the-adventurer.

“We passed it coming in, while you were still asleep,” Josh explained. “You can't really see yet, but there are mountains, and stuff. And a river valley. It's east-facing, I'm pretty sure, so. Yeah. The sunrise is gonna be really nice.” 

He trailed an arm up to rub at the back of his neck as he spoke, as if self conscious. Tyler reached over to pull his hand away, lacing it instead with the fingers of his own. 

“Yeah, it is,” he reassured, squeezing his hand once. “Come on. I have an idea.” 

Josh made a startled sound as Tyler let go of his hand, throwing open the passenger door and leveraging himself up on the open window in one swift movement. With ease, he pulled himself onto the top of the van, tapping twice on the ceiling for Josh to follow. 

“C’mon dude,” Tyler called, a giddy smile playing at his lips. This felt like the old days. “Come watch the sunrise, or whatever.”

Seconds later, Josh was hauling himself up beside Tyler, coming nimbly to sit beside him. 

“It's still like an hour and a half until actual morning, you know,” he huffed, and Tyler grinned. 

“Yeah, but at least you've got pleasant company until then.

Josh sighed, laughing long and breathy through his nose. Slowly, Tyler watched him lay back on the roof of the van, pulling him down by the shoulder to join him. He acquiesced without hesitation, propping his bent legs up below him, and tilting his head up at the slowly lightening sky. 

A moment passed, or several hundred. Either way, birds were chirping, and Tyler felt giddy with comfort. 

“It was a good tour,” Josh said abruptly, words ringing like church bells in the waning dark. 

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed. “Yeah. We should maybe, you know… do it again someday,” he teased. “If you’re up for it.” 

He could hear Josh's smile. 

“Yeah. Maybe.” 

Somewhere along the way, his head had come to rest in the crook of Josh's shoulder. Again, he was struck by the way that something about this felt reminiscent of the days when everything had still been jumbled and tentative, full of guilty stares and tight throats. 

When he'd been in it, it had been hard to imagine an end to the hesitance and the guarded feelings. Now, it was hard to imagine a world in which he hadn't allowed himself to touch Josh. 

“Hey,” he said softly, nudging Josh’s shoulder, and shivering at the answering hand in his hair.

Tyler raised himself up onto one arm, looking at Josh quizzically. 

“How come you kissed me, that time in the kitchen?” 

Josh blinked, surprised, and then his face melted into a soft smile. 

“I had no choice,” he said simply, brushing curled knuckles against Tyler’s arm. “Literally couldn't _not_ kiss you anymore.”

Tyler tipped his head onto Josh’s shoulder, rolling his eyes. 

“For real, though,” he whispered, suddenly shy.

Josh shook his head. 

“That is for real. I really mean that.” 

It was occurring to Tyler, very quickly, how very much unlike Josh - at least the Josh of last May - that moment had been. Anxious, careful Josh, who could have easily been ruining everything - not just their friendship, but their new band - but who had somehow deemed it worthwhile. He'd never given him that credit. 

Tyler shifted in his grasp. 

“Were you scared?” he murmured quietly, and Josh shrugged. 

“Yeah,” he answered. “But also, no. I was terrified, but I knew you'd kiss me back.”

“Oh really!” Tyler smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Some confidence.” 

Josh shrugged again, the corners of his lips twitching as he cocked his head. 

“I mean…” he went on. “You did kiss me on the cheek that time, on your birthday. When you thought I was sleeping.” 

Tyler sat straight up. 

“I don't…” he began, running a hand through his hair, and grinning stupidly. “Shit. I forgot about that.” 

Josh grinned in response. 

“I didn't.” 

Tyler felt the cold of the late-night-early-morning crowd around him all at once, and he shivered contentedly. 

“Dude, I don't blame you,” Josh teased, skin closing in around his eyes in one of his trademark smiles. “I was irresistible, that's why you did it.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed. “Yeah. Or it’s because I was in love with you.”

Josh stilled at that, eyes bright and unblinking, and Tyler stared back at him, because it was true. 

“I'm in love with you,” he repeated. Saying it winded him just as much as it had earlier in the day. 

Josh nodded, suddenly solemn. 

“I sort of find it hard,” he said slowly, eyes boring into Tyler's, “to imagine any kind of future in which you aren't the entire freaking world. Or to remember any kind of past before you were.”

Tyler felt his heart skip several beats. Sometimes, now, being this _in love_ felt involuntary and unremarkable - just an inherent part of his consciousness that he didn't even have to think about anymore. And then, other times - like this one - it became the single all-consuming fact of his existence; the only thing worth singing about; the only feeling or purpose that he could name. 

Josh’s lip was halfway between his teeth, and Tyler wondered whether the boy who had watched him with stars in his eyes from the front row of the Newport would have been the type to drive him forty minutes in the middle of the night to watch the sunrise, or if this soft and wild romantic had been awoken in him somewhere along the way. 

“Look at us,” he said, breaking the silence. “At it again.”

“At what?” Josh hummed. 

He sighed. “Dreaming.”

Josh chuckled, a soft “ha!” bubbling out of his belly, and just the sound of his laughter sent shivers down Tyler’s spine. 

Once again, he let himself stare, becoming so engrossed in the way that Josh’s chin gave way into soft swells of skin on either side of his lips that he didn't even notice the slow onset of rain until he saw the drops clinging to Josh’s eyelashes.

A low rumble of thunder brought both of them back to the present. 

“Shit! Shit!” exclaimed Josh, launching himself off the side of the roof as fat raindrops seemed to appear out of nowhere. Tyler quickly followed suit, holding an arm up to shield him from the beginnings of a downpour, and throwing open the passenger side door. 

Josh met him in the middle, wide eyed and dropping onto the gearshift. 

“Fuck!” Tyler heard him laugh, shaking damp fingers through his hair. He gestured helplessly over the dashboard, in the vague direction of the scenic outlook, which now looked like no more than a curtain of streaked and rainy darkness. “The freaking sunrise!” 

Tyler burst into laughter, water droplets dampening his lap as he shook. 

“Come on,” he said, stripping his shirt off and using it to towel through his hair, before climbing over the center console and onto the mattress in the back.

Josh blinked at him from over the headrest, and Tyler felt another quiet chill go through him that had nothing to do with the rain.

“Get back here,” he said, voice low. “We can't watch the sunrise, but we might as well stay warm.”

 

\--------

 

Dawn came and went with only a slight lightening of the sky. In any case, the fog on the inside of the windows blocked their view of the overlook, broken by small rivers of condensation, running down the glass like tears as Josh helped Tyler shift from his hands and knees onto his side, and then to his stomach, and then onto Josh’s chest, where, regardless of external geography, he always seemed to find himself in the end.

They allowed themselves thirty minutes of hazy half-oblivion, Josh's thumb mindlessly and rhythmically grazing the outside of Tyler’s shoulder, before forcing themselves to admit that Mark and Michael would soon inevitably realize that they had taken the van, and that it was in their best interest to head back. 

“You think they'll be mad?” Josh mused, suddenly worried, and Tyler chuckled from the passenger’s seat. 

“That we took the van? Or that we broke the No Shenanigans rule?” 

“Does the No Shenanigans rule still apply when the Vanigans is otherwise unoccupied?” Josh mused. 

Tyler's smile showed all his uneven teeth, and Josh was reminded how little he wanted any of this to end. 

As it turned out, Michael was much more concerned with being woken up by a barrage of texts at 7 a.m. than he was with the details of their late-night excursion. A Tyler’s insistence, albeit with some hemming and hawing, he and Mark met them in the motel parking lot, climbing into the bench seat with puffy eyelids and rain-damp sleep clothes. 

“Anyone care to explain what we’re doing out here in the wet asscrack of dawn?” Michael mumbled, sliding the door shut and leaning over to look back and forth between Tyler and Josh in the front seat. 

“I wanted to be spontaneous and... charming,” Josh explained. “But nature was not on our side.” 

“Man, it would have been so picturesque though,” Tyler grinned, and Josh raised an eyebrow. “You know,” he went on, gesturing grandly in the air. “End of the big tour, four best friends watching the sunrise together in the middle of nowhere...” 

“The cinematic possibilities are endless,” Mark chimed in, using the ends of his sleeves to wipe rain droplets from his eyes. “Now turn on the freaking heat.” 

Josh grinned hugely, fiddling with the dials on the dashboard to direct more air towards the back seat. 

“Yeah,” he allowed, focusing his gaze on Tyler. “We’ve never really been the type for fairytale endings anyway.” 

“Here’s to that,” Michael yawned, but Josh did not miss the twinkle of his eyes in the rearview mirror.

Though the rain never let up fully, feeble rays of sun began to peek through the clouds as the tour van made its winding way towards civilization, and by wide agreement, towards breakfast food. 

It _would_ have been picturesque, Josh thought - almost obscenely romantic. But somehow, the loud argument that had broken out in the backseat about IHOP versus Denny’s seemed far more fitting for their small conclusion. 

“Hey,” said Mark quietly, leaning over to speak into the space between the front seats, as Michael had done a few minutes before. “Did you see the name of the town we’re in? There was a sign a little while back.” 

Josh shook his head, flicking his eyes over to Tyler, who shrugged. 

“ _Newport,_ Pennsylvania,” Mark provided, grinning broadly and tapping the dashboard twice before falling back into his seat. “Like that damn place has our back wherever we go.” 

Josh let out a bark of delighted laughter, turning to Tyler, who simply folded his arms, a quiet and satisfied expression taking over his face. 

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Tyler sighed, leaning back and crossing his legs on the dashboard in front of him, and staring out the window with a tiny smile on his lips. “I knew it felt like home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just the epilogue to go... i don't want to leave this fic behind. it has been such a huge part of the last 9 months for me.
> 
> *edit* they're actually playing the newport again. i might die.


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go.

**twenty one pilots**  
October 23, 2011  
_Nov 19th Newport show in Columbus. Tickets for only $10. Buy straight from us on our website. We mail them to you. Pass on the word._

 **twenty one pilots**  
November 14, 2011  
_Playing Newport Music Hall in Columbus this Sat. Shall we be expecting you? Our moms are making dinner for everyone._

 **twenty one pilots**  
November 18, 2011  
_Show tomorrow in Columbus. We’ll ask our moms if you guys can sleep over but you have to get your parents to pick you up early the next day._

 **twenty one pilots**  
November 19, 2011  
_Show tonight in Columbus at the Newport Music Hall. Going to be delicious._

It was Tyler’s idea all along. 

It had been, Josh realized, a process that stretched far back before his own involvement in the band, back into the days of Nick and Chris, and shows alone in basements, and a fanbase that had consisted primarily of their friends and family. 

Tyler had explained it to him months ago - why it was important that they built up pockets of fans in every part of Ohio. Why he didn’t want Akron fans coming to Cinci gigs. Why it mattered, as he put it, for every person who came to a concert to feel like they had discovered twenty one pilots, like the shows belonged to them, like they wanted to run into the streets and scream to all their friends that _this was the greatest and most important band in the entire world._

Josh knew that feeling, but he didn’t say so. 

Tyler had explained that this was it. This was the show that they had held out for. They’d picked Columbus, because it was home, and the Newport for the same reason. Josh watched Tyler capitalize upon months of careful social media silence in the weeks before the show, no longer holding back, his fingers flying across his keyboard as he sent out invitation after invitation, and made post after post. 

Online events were created, newspapers contacted, and Josh thought that Mrs. Joseph seemed to be spending more time on the phone than she was at her job. They worked day and night, trying to pull the attention of their fans from every pocket of the state, and even the surrounding ones. _Show at the Newport,_ they were shouting, as loud as they could. _Come support your band._

Somehow, the news had managed to come in at 3:00 a.m., the night before the show. Mark had barged into Tyler’s bedroom at the rental house, unphased by Josh’s residual nakedness and confusion, to loudly inform them that they’d done it, they’d sold out the Newport. Every single ticket had been sold, and that night would be - by a long shot - their biggest audience yet. 

_This was the one._

 

\--------

 

The energy before this show was somehow different, like static electricity, hovering in a live and dangerous layer over everyone as they moved around backstage. No one seemed to be able to speak, as if opening their mouths would jinx it; as if putting this excitement in words would make it too real to bear. 

For Josh, it was more a general fear that if he opened his mouth, he’d throw up. The only thing he could do was try as best he could not to think about the line of teenagers and college students that was looping its way around the block, snaking into the guts of the Ohio State campus, calling attention to itself, and to _them._ Something was going on with this music, and very suddenly, people knew it. 

Mark practically ran into him in the hallway, both of them clumsy with nerves. 

“Tyler?” Josh asked, head cocked in a question. 

“He, uh - someone messaged him on Facebook that people were cutting in line, so he went out to talk to them,” Mark laughed, voice equal parts amusement and exasperation. 

Josh nodded, not even a little bit surprised. He grinned, and Mark returned the expression; he wasn’t sure if they were even thinking about Tyler anymore, or just thinking about this, the crowd outside, the audience about to file into the venue that they'd effectively grown up in, and worked to make their own; the venue where he’d stood in the crowd and looked straight ahead at Tyler’s shoes and tried not to fall in love right then and there, and had fallen in love anyway. 

A hand on his arm pulled Josh out of his reverie, and before he could catch his bearings, he was being dragged through the dark back hallway and into a room a few doors down from the dressing room they’d been given. 

“Hey,” said Tyler, flicking on the light, and Josh blinked, taking in his surroundings.

“Oh,” he said, heartbeat catching up to his vision, and a grin breaking out on his face. “Oh. Here.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed, lips pursed with shy laughter. “Here.” 

Another year had passed, but even still, Josh was instantly struck with the almost institutionally white floors and green tinted ceiling of the makeshift dressing room where they’d met, where Josh had become _drummer Josh,_ and shaken Tyler’s hand. 

“Guess we got an upgrade, now that we’re big deals and all,” Josh giggled, trying to catch his breath, and Tyler shrugged, stoic and exhilarated at the same time. 

Crew voices echoed in from the hallway, passing by their door in an unintelligible crescendo, before disappearing back out towards the stage. 

“Josh,” came Tyler’s quiet voice, and Josh raised his eyes. “We need to - can we like… can we make a pact? Like - like a pact-type thing? An agreement?” 

Josh nodded, eyes wide and quiet, waiting for Tyler to go on. 

“This thing - I can’t believe I’m even getting to say this, you know, but this thing, the band…” 

“It’s growing,” Josh offered, and Tyler huffed in near disbelief. 

“Yeah. It’s happening. The stuff we talked about, it’s starting, you know?” 

Josh felt his heart leap out of his chest, because it was, it was. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah. It is.” 

“Yeah,” Tyler echoed, a broken record, because everything and nothing made sense, all at once. Josh watched his face contort and grow serious. “I need you to like… to hear me out on some stuff, okay?” he went on. 

“Okay,” Josh agreed, blank and curious. 

“Can you - can you promise that you’re not gonna take off? Just - ” he broke off, trailing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Like forget that we’re - that we’re together,” he said hurriedly, flushing a little at his own words, even after all this time. “Just pretend - as bandmates, just promise me, that even if this gets big and you turn into a superstar who could drum for anyone in the universe, promise that you’re going to stay with me, okay?” 

Something close to a scoff left Josh’s lips before he could stop it. 

“Tyler,” he murmured, warm and half-amused. 

“Promise me, okay?” Tyler choked out, voice twisting up at the end, and dying in his throat.

“Okay,” Josh uttered in perplexed surprise, moving to latch a hand onto Tyler’s arm. “Yeah, God, Tyler, I can’t believe you even need me to say this, but _obviously_ , I promise. Where is this even coming from?” 

Tyler shook his head, wordless, lower lip bitten between his teeth. 

“Ty,” he breathed again. “What’s going on?”

A brief moment passed in which Josh wondered whether something was seriously wrong. But then the smallest, subtlest of smiles passed over Tyler’s lips, and Josh thought he caught a glimpse of a twinkle in his eye before it disappeared again, blinked back with a sniff.

“There’s a label here,” Tyler said, plainly. 

Josh played the words over in his head. 

“A label?” he mimicked, dumbly. “Like a music label?” 

Tyler’s mouth turned up slowly, and he jutted his head out mockingly as he spoke. “No, like. You know, a label from a labelmaker… someone’s just going around in the audience, sticking those sticky labels on people…” 

“Shut up,” Josh said, heart suddenly racing with the seriousness of what Tyler had said. “Shit, shut up. Shit.” 

Tyler nodded. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah. I don’t like rumors, and I don’t like getting my hopes up over things out of my control… but this is from Chris,” he said earnestly, shrugging. “I trust Chris. He’s a reliable source, and he told me that the venue saved a place in the balcony for two industry guys.” 

“Shit,” Josh breathed again, the only word he could remember. 

Tyler scuffed at the floor with his toe. 

“We need to do it right, though,” he said quietly. “Like… this needs to be fair. We need to make it fair.” 

Josh nodded slowly. 

“No cutting corners,” Tyler continued. “We need to take our time, _really_ take our time to figure out what we’re doing, and that’s why I’m… saying all this, you know,” he explained. “Seems like things might be changing soon. Or intensifying, at least.”

He looked up, their eyes meeting, and Josh didn’t think he’d ever seen Tyler look more serious. 

“And I want to make it really clear that I’m not interested in success if it doesn’t involve you.” 

Josh couldn’t make his voice work, couldn’t even get his jaw open - all he could do was stare intently ahead, locking his eyes with Tyler’s. 

“Yeah,” Josh croaked in agreement, gathering his senses enough to reach out a hand, taking Tyler’s firmly in his own. “Yeah, good. Because I’m not going anywhere.” 

He looked down at their fingers, and when he looked up again, there were silent tears on Tyler’s face. 

“It might be hard sometimes,” he murmured, voice shaky and eyes squeezed shut as his fingers dug into Josh’s palm.

“I know,” Josh said immediately. 

“We might never be able to - we might not -” 

“Ty,” he silenced him. “I know.” 

Tyler let out a long breath through his nose. “You know.” 

He bit down on his lip, shoulders hunching. This kind of crying was different - silent and inevitable, and rattling his breath. 

Josh nodded. “Yeah. And I’m still in. For the long haul.”

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to say. “Ty, I _mean it_ that I’m in this, and I’m not just talking about being boyfriends. I’m sticking around with you, whatever form that’s going to take, alright? And - and I know that we probably can’t… can’t have all the typical stuff that everyone wants, but it doesn’t matter; if there ends up being other people, it doesn’t -” 

“Don’t,” Tyler cut him off quietly, jaw firm. “Don’t, just… promise.” 

Josh softened. 

“I promise.” 

He watched Tyler shuffle his feet, nodding and looking at the ground. 

“I love you,” Tyler said under his breath, fingers laced loosely with his own. 

“I love you,” Josh agreed. 

Weakly, Tyler smiled, swiping the back of a hand briskly and discreetly over his cheeks until they were dry. 

Frowning, he pointed at Josh’s chest. 

“Sweatshirt?” he asked. 

They’d decided to start out the show in the hoodies they’d made just days after Josh had joined the band; bulky and white with a thick blue band striping around the middle, their all-red outfits underneath, ready to be revealed.

“Dressing room,” Josh answered. “ _Our_ dressing room. Was gonna put it on, before you kidnapped me and brought me in here.”

Tyler nodded, expressionless; without explanation, he reached down to pull his own sweatshirt over his head, the red t-shirt riding up with it, brushing over the soft curve of his hip bones. Before he could protest, Tyler was stepping forward, and pulling the sweatshirt over Josh’s head, straight down, so that his arms were pinned to his side.

“Are you going to wear mine, or something?” Josh laughed, head emerging at the top, wriggling and maneuvering his arms out the sleeve holes. 

“Yeah,” Tyler shrugged, adjusting Josh’s hood. “It doesn’t matter. Nobody will know but us.” 

His eyes met Josh’s. 

“It’s just for us. Nobody else gets to know.” 

The neckline of the sweatshirt smelled like Tyler. Josh knew that he was talking about more than their stage clothes. 

“It’s for us,” Josh echoed quietly.

And then, all at once, Tyler was clutching at the fabric of the hoodie and pulling him in, forcing their lips together with a hard and sudden enthusiasm that winded Josh. Every move he made, Tyler leaned to follow, chasing his mouth with his own as if he were starving; as if he couldn’t stop kissing Josh, even if he wanted to.

His ear was trapped at a strange angle under Tyler’s gripping palm, which curled in around his head, trying to draw him even closer as they kissed, desperate and deep, and Josh had never in his life felt more sure of being wanted. 

Slowly, their rough desperation gave way to long, drawn-out presses of their lips, Tyler still suspended against Josh, leaning into their closeness like he trusted it to catch him. Neither bothered to catch their breath; it was easier to wait until air forced itself in, in the moments between kisses, noses bumping as they gasped. 

When Tyler pulled away, his lips were red and bruised. 

He smiled. 

“Let’s go play a show.” 

 

\--------

 

The first thing Tyler noticed was that he couldn’t see everyone’s face. For the first time in his memory of playing shows, whether in a basement or a yard or this same dark room, the people stretched far enough back that their faces were hidden behind other faces, or in the shadow of the balcony, or they were just simply too far away to make out. 

Initially, he couldn’t help but scan the upper levels for someone who looked official, who looked out-of-place enough to be from a label. But not only was it too dim to really get a good look, but he could feel himself getting distracted, feel his focus being pulled away from the music, and he gave up his search without a second thought. 

Instead, he did what he knew how to do. 

He told the story of his car radio being stolen, even though he knew that half the pit could probably tell it better than he could. He danced on the piano, and made room for Josh to climb up with him, not missing the wink and the twinkle in his eye before he backflipped off. Literally and figuratively, he let the crowd carry him; he peeled off layers of clothing like second skins. He let himself get lost, in the music, and in the feeling of Josh behind him, beside him, his drums like a second heartbeat that Tyler had forgotten how to exist without. 

When it came to the end, when “Trees” was the only thing between them and the quiet togetherness of backstage, Tyler paused. He glanced at Michael, sidestage with the laptop, and held up a single finger for him to wait. 

Tyler let his hands brush over the keyboard, pressing out quiet introductory chords that reverberated slowly through sold-out hall. It struck him, briefly, that they’d done it; they had gathered this crowd here from every corner of Ohio, their hard earned fans, the strange and passionate people that had drawn them together in the first place, drawn them back here again and again - drawn men in suits all the way from New York to Columbus, just to see what was going on. 

His eyes darted involuntarily down to the first row of the pit, and he let his gaze linger on the stark, glowing faces of fans. He had almost expected, he realized, to see a wide-eyed young man with soft brown curls staring up at him in awe. But Josh sat beside him now, out of Tyler’s sight; the awe, he knew, would come later, when he would run his hands through those same curls, and hold on tightly. 

“Thank you,” Tyler said, lips touching the microphone, and the sound reverberated around the room. “Josh and I wanted to take the time to really, really thank each and every one of you here for getting us to this point. Selling out this venue was a big deal for us.” 

A smattering of applause and cheers rippled through the audience, and Tyler could practically feel Josh smiling. 

“You all already know this, but it bears repeating…” He let his voice speed up, growing in volume. “I really wouldn’t still be standing up here playing music if it wasn’t for the help and support of that guy over there, so please give it up for Josh Dun on the drums!” 

In the wings, he caught sight of Chris cupping his hands around his mouth and cheering louder than anyone else, and something in his heart tightened and released. 

“We believe in this, like I know you do,” he went on, letting his gaze wander into the balcony, over the still and featureless people staring down at him, arms leaned against the railing, watching. “And that means that there might be a time, I don’t know… not to get ahead of ourselves, but… we might find ourselves in a position where this venue doesn’t seem like the right size anymore. But I want you to know that this room, right here, means more to us than you can imagine.”

Tyler looked down at his fingers. He must have gone through those three suspended chords dozens of times by now - _D# minor… B major... F# major..._ like a record stuck on a slow, arhythmic loop. Michael was still staring at him, hovering bewildered sidestage, eyebrows raised at him as he spoke. 

“This city and this place are home,” he said quietly, improvising, but meaning every word. “And we’ll always come back here. I promise.” 

Again, a handful of cheers went up in the audience, and Tyler ducked his head to hide a small grin. 

This was what _alive meant_. 

Standing here, suspended in his slow music, Tyler could almost feel himself being written into the fabric of their own collective nostalgia. This show, and all the ones before it would be told as impassioned stories, by unfamiliar voices, somewhere in the indistinct and exhilarating future that would begin when they left this stage. 

_Though there were some things,_ he reminded himself, thinking of Josh, _that they would never know._

“We’re twenty one pilots!” he shouted into the crowd, trying to make each of them believe it, to understand what they were a part of; that even in the dark of the hall, he saw them, and knew them - and that for as long as they stuck around, they were loved beyond measure. 

Tyler turned, speaking directly to Josh. 

“And so are you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends -
> 
> I hope you can grasp how very deeply I mean it when I say that writing this fic has changed me, and the way I interact with the world. Not only has it made me rediscover the importance of writing in my life, but it’s quite literally given me a community of friends that I’d be lost without. Mars, Alex - I can’t thank you enough for loving me and taking me in. It does not escape me that I wouldn’t know some of my favorite people in the universe if I hadn’t started writing this thing. Josh, Katie, Sooti, Grace, Julie, Dami, Gwyn, Zoe, Erin - life is better with you in my pocket. 
> 
> All of you who have commented and shown your support throughout the last nine months have contributed to the development of this fic. Those who have translated, adapted, or just generally enthused - it’s yours as much as it is mine. And don’t think I haven’t noticed those of you showing your love on twitter -- seeing excited tweets about my own work on my timeline is the craziest and most inspirational thing ever. Sorry for lurking.
> 
> I literally wrote the first chapter of this fic in bed on my phone during a summer program that I hated, and I thought maybe I’d write four or five chapters, follow the trajectory of the band, and at best, just try to be authentic and realistic. Somehow, this became a passionate project in authenticity, and following through with this interpretation of canon has given me a kind of purpose that I myself have only just begun to fully recognize. Yeah, this is just a piece of fanfiction, and to people outside this community, all of this would likely sound ridiculous. But there is something utterly unparalleled and truly extraordinary about the love we generate in this corner of the fandom. 
> 
> Much like this fic, nay, like my life, this thank-you just seems to be getting increasingly emo as it goes on. Please, don’t be strangers. The people who care about this fic are people who I care about. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. 
> 
> |-/ - Ella


End file.
